


Parastellar

by glaciernoswag (kaashmoneybb)



Series: lightning strikes twice [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Both POV, EJP Raijin - Freeform, Friends With Benefits, Friends With Benefits To Lovers, Getting Together, Happy Ending, M/M, Masturbation, Protective Cousin Sakusa Kiyoomi, Sakuatsu Cameo, Shower Sex, relationship angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:40:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28681254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaashmoneybb/pseuds/glaciernoswag
Summary: Suna Rintarou and Komori Motoya are EJP Raijin teammates and friends with benefits. Just when the possibility of something more is on the horizon, Suna makes a mistake, jeopardizing his chances of keeping Komori in his life.Limited by the unique strained communication that happens in the space between friends and lovers, Suna and Komori attempt to figure out what they want, and what the other wants.
Relationships: Komori Motoya/Suna Rintarou
Series: lightning strikes twice [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2147046
Comments: 30
Kudos: 132





	Parastellar

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that you can relate to something in this story.
> 
> Please enjoy, and thank you for your support.

Komori listened to Suna’s panting, and felt his arm slip from around his waist as he reached down to peel off the condom and toss it in the bin next to the bed. The mattress groaned as Suna flopped onto his back, holding a hand to his chest. He scooted over, making room for Komori to roll onto his back next to him. He pulled a few tissues from the box on the nightstand and lazily swiped at Komori’s stomach, then added them to the trash.

Suna propped himself up on the pillows and picked his phone up from the table, texting someone with one hand while using the other to cushion the back of his head against the headboard. His breathing began to calm, and Komori heard a long exhale. Thoughtfully, he sat up for a second to grab Komori’s phone and hand it to him.

Komori shifted to prop himself up too, looking through his notifications. He pulled the covers up under his arms, tucking the edge under chin, but leaving Suna exposed- he was always too hot after sex to get under the duvet. He said it was because he did all the work. Komori argued that that didn’t make sense, because the same thing happened when he was riding him. Suna had said whatever, just keep it on your side. 

“Hey, MSBY won. We should have watched, looks like it was a tight match,” he commented, breaking the silence. He scrolled through the article about the game that had taken place earlier that night, searching for highlights of his cousin.

“Meh. I’m getting sick of watching games at home. Cuts into my PUBG time.”

“Doesn’t _this_ cut into your PUBG time?”

“Nah. Sex is more important.”

“You’re such a dork.”

“No I’m not. I fuck.”

Komori flicked him on the shoulder. “Not anymore,” he teased, setting his phone down and stretching his arms. “Are you staying over?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, I’m gonna shower.”

He tossed the duvet off of his lap and stood up, bending down to touch his toes and stretch his back out.

Suna snuck a glance to the side, biting his lip at the view. “I’ll join you in a minute.”

Komori just looked at him and smiled, before walking into the bathroom and starting the water. He stuck his hand in and felt it heat up, mentally appreciating the fact that they were off of practice the next day. He relished the opportunity to sleep in. Contrary to popular belief, he wasn’t a morning person. That was part of why he enjoyed when Suna slept over on nights like this. They’d spend the next morning in bed doing nothing.

He slid the door open and stepped in, letting the water soak his hair and run down his body, washing away the sweat. He closed his eyes and turned his face up into the water, paying no mind when he heard the door open again and felt hands reaching around to run across his abs. 

He squeezed shampoo into his palm and then switched places with Suna, letting him stand under the water. His eyes followed the droplets racing down every deep line on Suna’s body while he absently scrubbed his scalp. He might have been in heaven. In heaven he probably would have had a bigger bathroom, though.

Komori stepped forward and reached behind Suna. Suna perked up, linking his arms around his lower back, and tilting his head down for a kiss. Komori dodged it, and instead returned his hands to the front with more shampoo at the ready. He started to lather it into Suna’s hair, chuckling as he watched him sigh and close his eyes contentedly. It was impossible to resist craning his neck forward to give him a light kiss while he worked.

Suna chased him for more when he pulled back, but Komori laughed and pushed him gently so they could trade places under the water again. He rinsed his own hair quickly, facing Suna, who was staring at him with his typical unreadable expression. He wondered briefly if Suna thought the same things watching him as he did when he was watching Suna. 

In their unspoken rotation, Suna stepped back into the water, and Komori leaned against the shower wall, waiting for the opportunity to use the soap. Suna beat him to it, grabbing the bottle and dispensing an unnecessary amount into his hands.

“C’mere,” he said, beckoning to Komori, staring down at him through half-lidded eyes, with his head tilted back into the stream of water.

“You’re a dog,” Komori replied, while stepping closer anyways. He held onto Suna’s shoulders as he started to slide his hands all over his torso, reaching around to his back, and dipping down to spend a suspicious amount of time massaging his ass. 

“I think it’s clean now, you perv,” Komori said, chuckling. “Hey!” he yelped, as one of Suna’s hands slipped around to the front, suddenly reaching under to massage his balls. The touch sent a pang to his core.

“I know,” Suna muttered, using his grip on Komori’s ass to pull him closer. Komori looked down just in time to watch Suna’s fully hard dick slide up against his stomach between them. Ah. There was usually no stopping him at this point, and who was Komori to say no to his sexy 6’3” pro-athlete fuck buddy?

So he lifted his face and kissed him, enjoying the plumpness of their lips that the shower steam afforded. Suna’s hand held both of their cocks together, tugging lightly, using the soap dripping off them to his advantage. Komori gasped as his thumb grazed over the slit of his cockhead.

“Mmgh,” he groaned, feeling himself get hard again too. Suna flipped him around carefully and started to slide against Komori’s hole, arms wrapped around his slippery body with the shower hitting his back. 

“Suna,” Komori warned, leaning his head back against his shoulder. 

“Ughhhh,” Suna pouted.

Before Komori could say anything else, Suna dashed out of the shower, dripping wet, running back into the bedroom.

“Suna!” Komori yelled out the door after him, trying his best to sound angry through his laughter. “What the fuck are you doing? You’re gonna get everything wet!”

Moments later, a deranged naked man came running back into the bathroom with a goofy grin on his face, holding his dick in one hand and sliding the shower door open with the other. He quickly jumped in, pushing Komori against the cold tile wall as he stole his spot under the water.

“You better not have gotten my stuff w–ahhh,” Komori started to complain jokingly, before breaking off into a whine as he felt something hard and slippery jab against his hole. Using the power of deduction he suspected that it was none other than Suna’s cock, now condomed and lubricated.

“Ah, fuck,” Suna breathed out, bracing one hand against the wall as he used the the other to guide himself inside Komori’s post-sex loosened ass. The water hit him just behind his left shoulder, keeping him warm, while goosebumps crawled across Komori’s skin as he was unjustly boxed out from under the stream.

He didn’t find time to complain. Suna started fucking him and jerking him off fast, one hand reaching around his front. He fell forward into the shower wall, his hands, chest, and cheek pressed against the cold tile with his back arched and ass sticking out. They had already taken it slow earlier. This time, the goal was to achieve the desired results as quickly as possible. 

After a few minutes of attack, the wet monster behind Komori grunted, staring directly at where his cock was sliding in and out. “Fuck, Toya, I wanna cum.”

“Fuck, me too,” Komori panted, squeezing his eyes shut to focus on Suna’s strokes and get himself over the edge. He felt a twinge in his gut and let his mind go, building up to his second orgasm of the day. Suna slammed him closer to the wall in one last motion, chest heaving into his back as he came, and knuckles bumping against tile as he finished Komori off.

Komori instantly twisted away, pushing Suna out of the water and basking in the warmth himself. He shuddered under the heat. “You’re cleaning that up,” he said with feigned annoyance, nodding at his cum splattered on the wall. After warming his bones through again, he exited the shower, leaving Suna behind in favor of a big, fluffy towel. He brushed his teeth while Suna finished cleaning up, then headed back to bed.

“Yeah, yeah,” Suna confirmed, just before Komori left. He reached out the door behind him, throwing the condom in the small waste bin, then quickly washed his own body. He grabbed the handheld showerhead and blasted the spot on the wall, watching it run down into the drain with mild fascination. 

After drying himself off, he tied his towel around his waist and grabbed his toothbrush, peeking into the bedroom while he brushed. He saw Komori sitting in bed, wearing their white team sweatshirt and flipping through titles on Netflix. He thought it looked like heaven. In heaven there would probably be a bigger bed, though. 

He spat out toothpaste and then crept back into the room, searching through the discarded garments on the floor, finding his underwear slipping them on.

“Hey, did you find my–” he began, looking up at Komori to see an innocent smile. He spotted the number 7 embroidered on the upper sleeve. “Thief.”

“It smells sooo good, though,” Komori pouted, pulling up the collar with two hands and burying his nose in it. 

“You’re creepy,” Suna said, resigned, sliding into bed next to him in just his underwear and tossing his arm around his shoulders. Komori adjusted, nestling back and letting his head fall against Suna’s chest. 

“Ack, your hair’s wet,” Suna complained, yet still leaned the side of his face against the top of Komori’s head instinctually. The cold wetness against his cheek soon warmed from the contact with his skin. “What are we watching? Also, I’m hungry,” he added, grabbing his phone to scroll through a delivery app. Komori’s cat, Ringo, sprinted into the room and jumped on the bed, plopping himself on Suna’s lap. Suna switched his phone into the hand of his arm that was around Komori so he could pat Ringo with the other.

“You’re not ordering food this late,” Komori said, getting a full view of Suna’s phone screen in front of his face. “Seriously, you blow money like we’re in the NPB or something. Just go look in the fridge.”

“You know, I almost played baseball in high school. I should’ve. I’d be in a hot tub in Italy right now.”

“Yeah, I know. You say that every time you get drunk. And you could just, _go to Italy_ , like, whenever you wanted to, if you didn’t burn through your paychecks like they’re Monopoly money.”

Suna chuckled and squeezed Komori tighter, ruffling his damp hair and kissing him on the cheek. “Yeah, but if I did that, I wouldn’t have the pleasure of being in this shitty apartment about to watch a shitty horror movie with my shitty gay teammate.”

“Hey, I’m not shitty!” Komori retorted, elbowing Suna. He pulled up the sweatshirt hood and yanked the strings so it cinched around his face. “And I heard this movie was supposed to be good. So go get us a snack and then be quiet so I can enjoy it in peace.”

“I thought you said you weren’t hungry.”

“Yeah, I’m not. But I need you to get me a snack right now. Do you understand?”

Suna snorted and rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay, I’m going.” He pushed Ringo off his lap and slipped out of bed. 

The cat meowed in annoyance. Komori leaned over to pet him, rubbing his belly as he rolled over. “Don’t worry, Ringo, he’s just getting me a snack,” he murmured, eyes following Suna as he walked out. He sighed, and smiled, realizing that he hadn’t thought of anything outside the walls of his apartment the whole night. It felt like everything he needed was already here.

* * *

The next morning, Suna had begged Komori to make them breakfast. He could be pretty convincing when he put on his sweetest expression and sultry voice, batting his eyes over the edge of the duvet. With dishes and mugs from breakfast piled up on the bedside tables, they spent the rest of the morning lazing in bed, sitting on their phones with sports news playing in the background, and cuddling with Ringo in between them. 

When it was time for Suna to leave, Komori always remained in bed, not seeing him to the door. He had learned after the first few hookups that saying goodbye only led to awkwardness. A hug or a kiss made it seem too intimate, but not doing anything also felt… not right. So Suna would get dressed in his clothes from the night before, say some generic farewell, and walk out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. It served as good closure for their meetings. The lines were clear, and the arrangement (if they could call it that) was going well. It had started with a drunk encounter after a post-game celebration, and then they just kept doing it. The sex was great, and they had the same schedule, so there were never hard feelings over being busy. 

Of course they had talked about it. They both said they weren’t looking for anything, but had fun with each other, so they should keep it how it is. This was fine with Komori, but he wondered if they had recently been edging closer to needing another conversation. Every time Suna left, Komori thought about what it would be like if he didn’t have to. Sometimes, on the weekends, Suna would even stay until well into the next day, eating dinner with him, until leaving, citing a lack of a change of clothes. He never started bringing extra clothes, either, as though that was a control measure for not letting their relationship grow. If he only spent one night, they could keep calling it a hookup.

At practice on Monday, Komori stayed focused, joking around with his teammates as usual. He was good at compartmentalizing, and so was Suna, which was another reason they worked. Neither of them let their shared sex life affect their day-to-day interactions or playing, and their teammates were none the wiser. At least, none of them had ever brought it up. 

Today, Komori admittedly found it a little hard to concentrate, though, during their weight training session, as he eyed Suna and Washio spotting each other at the bench press. He stared into the mirror as he finished his squats, not looking at his own form, but using it to spy on Suna’s chest and arms flexing under the bar. He racked it, exhaling, and lifted his head off the bench to look at something in the distance. Komori did another rep and tried to figure out what it was that he was looking at, until he watched Suna’s eyes follow his motion down into the bottom of his squat. In the mirror, his eyes flicked to meet Komori’s, like he knew he was sneaking glances at him. He winked. Komori blinked in surprise but quickly tore his gaze away, racking his own bar hastily and turning away from the mirror to guzzle water and wipe his sweat. 

After, he stayed behind to practice serve receives with a teammate who had a similar style to one of the top players on the team they were up against Thursday. Still, Suna crept into his brain, serving on the court next to him to polish his power serve. Komori floated receive after receive of his practice partner’s serves, but was plagued with inappropriate mental flashbacks as he listened to Suna’s grunts each time he nailed the ball. 

There was something there. He couldn’t quite explain why, or identify any real emotions, but Suna stayed in his mind, even outside of their time together. The space between their sex life and, well, everything else, was shrinking, and Komori resolved to discuss it with him the next time he saw him. It wasn’t a bad thing, in his opinion, just something that needed to be talked about again. They were both mature adults and could easily have an honest conversation about their relationship. If Suna wasn’t receptive to the possibility of something more between them, Komori could handle that and back off. Being on the same page was important for this to work.

* * *

Having been too busy to see each other in the three days leading up to their match against the Warriors, on Thursday night, Komori reconsidered if he _had_ to talk to Suna about it the _next time_. 

The club they celebrated at was always filled with friends of the players who had gotten on the guest list, and a rotating lineup of girls who brought their friends, who brought _their_ friends, and were vaguely familiar to the team. They played great music and had an excellent mezzanine VIP section, allowing them to mingle and observe the floor below with a little bit of privacy. 

Dressed for the occasion, Suna had on a loose fitting black dress shirt tucked into tailored gray glen plaid pants. His waistband was cinched with a shiny black leather belt, and his clean loafers matched with silver hardware. Drunkenness had done everyone a favor and caused him to undo the top three buttons of his shirt, exposing more skin than Komori wanted anyone else to lay eyes on. Dangling off his chest as he leaned forward on the couch was a thin stainless steel cuban link chain, connected by a tiny padlock charm in front.

As Komori eye-fucked him, he decided that their talk could be postponed until a later date.

Well past midnight but not quite nearing bar close, he sipped on a concoction that the establishment simply called Blue Drink. He had no idea what was in it, just that it tasted like artificial raspberry and got him plastered. As he tipped the cup back a few drops spilled onto his shirt– a dark gray skin tight turtleneck. They quickly became indistinguishable on the material, and he was thankful he had picked it over the white one. He leaned over the railing and people watched, while two of his teammates chatted to each other on either side of him, leaving him in the middle of their conversation about the latest episode of Terrace House. 

He checked his watch. Around half past one. He looked over his shoulder at the couches for Suna to give him the ‘let’s go’ glance, but didn’t see him sitting with Washio. Probably in the bathroom, he guessed. He pulled out his phone instead to text him, but saw movement in the crowd below that caught his eye. 

He was hard to miss, a mop of dark brown hair half a foot above everyone else, holding a drink in one hand and being pulled towards the bar with the other. He leaned in to order something, holding up two fingers to the bartender. The girl next to him tugged on his arm.

Komori got a glimpse of Suna’s face when he turned to the side. He was grinning and saying something to the girl as he slipped his arm around her waist. She laughed, covering her mouth and threading her arm under his, behind his lower back. He turned to face her, propping his elbow on the edge of the bar, and brushed her hair back before resting his hand at her neck. His thumb pressed under her chin, gently forcing it up. 

Komori put his phone away, and stared at the ceiling, watching the lights rotate as his mind drew to a blank.

“Ay, look at Suna down there! Damn, she’s hot. Odds he’s outta here within ten minutes.”

“70/30. What do you think, Komori?”

Komori snapped to attention. “What?” 

He looked back down at Suna. His face was obstructed as he leaned to the girl’s ear, murmuring something. Her expression told Komori that he didn’t want to know what those words were. 

“I don’t know. 50/50,” he said, attempting to sound engaged and praying that he wasn’t failing. He peeled away from the railing, sitting back on the couch and opening his phone. He tried to control his thoughts and save himself from spiraling, scrolling through his email to distract himself. No, no one had emailed him at 1:30 AM on a Thursday (technically, Friday). 

“Aaand he’s already leaving,” his teammate and fellow libero Yokoyama remarked, pointing over the edge of the mezzanine and laughing. 

“Shit, I would be too if a girl like that wanted to.”

Komori stopped listening. He leaned back into the couch, continuing to look at his phone, but not absorbing anything on the screen. 

“Komori, are you cold? Here, you can wear my coat,” Washio said from across the table, handing him a heavy leather jacket. 

Komori realized he was shaking lightly. “Oh, yes. Thanks!” he said, shooting a happy grin at Washio, who smiled back. 

“It’s no problem!” he replied, thankfully turning back to his conversation after. 

Komori’s face fell again. He put the coat over his shoulders, hoping it would at least hide his uncontrollable shivering. Glancing around the section, he saw his teammates scattered– talking to each other, talking to random girls. He knew he could go up to any of them and be welcomed into their conversation with open arms. Maybe it would help him take his mind off of whatever it was on right now. Logically, he knew that he was surrounded by friends who genuinely cared about him. But despite that knowledge, he felt invisible.

He sat there, desperately wanting to leave, but not wanting it to be obvious that he was leaving because of Suna. He was probably overthinking it; it’s not like anyone would notice if he left, right? And even if they did, would they really connect the dots? But nonetheless, he stayed, shivering on the couch for another half an hour to throw people off of his trail. 

He felt like an idiot. He was consumed with jealousy and anger, which seemed completely justified and absolutely baseless at the same time. Was it fair to be jealous? They were hooking up occasionally, nothing more. Neither of them had said that they were exclusive. In fact, Komori assumed that Suna was seeing other people. 

So why? Why did he feel like this tonight? He guessed it was because he was seeing it happen in front of him. But that should make no difference. Sure, he was starting to develop… _something_ for Suna, but if he hadn’t cared before, it shouldn’t matter just because he _saw_ it now. It shouldn’t. But it did.

Did that mean he had always felt like this, but had been… blissfully ignorant? Or had something changed? He thought back to the last time– when Suna brought a glass of water into the room for them to share. Kissing him through laughter in the shower. His fingers scratching behind Ringo’s ear and his smile illuminated by the glow of the TV, just for Komori to see. No one else got to see that face, right? Waking up with his nose tickling his neck...

No, he didn’t think the last time had triggered any changes in his feelings. Every time was like that. He’d just been made aware of the fact that he cared in the most painful way imaginable. He felt as anguished as if he’d been cheated on, but had no place in Suna’s life to express it. 

He didn’t say goodbye to anyone, and no one noticed that he left. Just like he expected. He stepped into a taxi waiting outside, and went back to his apartment. 

He wasn’t sure what time it was anymore as he laid on his back in bed in the dark, staring into nothing. 

Images of Suna’s hands touching someone else flashed through his head on repeat. How many times had he replayed the way he’d leaned down to her ear? The scene looped, and looped, and looped, not only taunting him, but holding the reprieve of sleep at bay. He shut his eyes tight and buried himself in his bed, but then new images rushed in, of Suna holding him in that very spot, kissing his cheek softly, touching him with the same hands. 

His throat tightened, but he wasn’t going to let himself go down that rabbit hole tonight. He slipped out of bed, grabbing a throw blanket from his closet, and crept into the living space. He fell onto the couch and wrapped himself in the blanket, trying to forget about everything outside of his apartment walls. It should have been his safe haven, but being alone right now felt more like being trapped. 

Ringo meowed somewhere, and Komori lifted his head for a moment to look for him. Tiny slivers of moon and city light creeping in through the blinds were enough to make out his cat’s shape near the door. He saw him curled up on top of a few pairs of shoes, glowing eyes and perked ears turned to him expectantly. 

He sighed and clicked his tongue to call him over, but Ringo didn’t move. 

“Go back to sleep, buddy. No one’s coming,” he whispered. Ringo ignored him, and meowed again, before setting his head back down on a sneaker.

Komori closed his eyes. The couch was uncomfortable, but for now, not triggering any unwanted memories. He was cold, and the blanket wasn’t heavy enough for him to feel safe, but in a weird way, that was what he needed. It was a long time before he fell asleep, but eventually, his thoughts stopped wandering to somewhere else in Tokyo. 

* * *

Suna jumped into the taxi he’d ordered, slamming the door shut behind him to escape the cold. He ran a hand through his dirty and unkempt hair, fumbling for his phone in his pocket for the short ride back to his place. He couldn’t wait to shower, get in bed, cuddle up to… wait, nevermind. 

He had a crazy urge to message _him_ and ask to come over. It was nice to sleep next to him. But even for Suna, that would be a little too fucked up, considering he had just painted someone else’s face. It was fun and she didn’t even ask for his number. The perfect crime. 

He felt bad, for some reason, which he pondered as he took the elevator up to his studio. He stepped into the shower for a quick rinse under hot water, eager to get to sleep before the sun came up again. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine himself in Komori’s shower, and as he washed his hair, he pictured Komori standing in front of him, reaching out, and then his fingers circling on his scalp, massaging his temples.

He’d been thinking about Komori a lot, recently. More than normal. Or was it? He wasn’t sure. 

They’d been sleeping together for a month or two (three?) and the frequency had gradually increased. He was probably at Komori’s place at least three times a week now, if not more. He hadn’t even had the time or desire to sleep with anyone else, until he’d met the girl tonight, which he was already realizing was probably a selfish idea. Had Komori seen them leave? Shit. 

Maybe he was overthinking it. It’s not like Komori was watching his every move, and he was up in the mezzanine still when Suna had left. And even if he had seen, it’s not like he would care. They had made it clear early on that it was a relationship of convenience, and not to expect exclusivity. Honestly, Suna assumed that Komori was seeing other people.

But he almost wanted Komori to be jealous. No, he definitely wanted that. Fuck, that was so fucked up and manipulative. But if it meant that Komori cared about him, and was _possessive_ over him, Suna wanted to see that reaction. He couldn’t tell if he hoped Komori _did_ see him or if he hoped he _didn’t_.

Would he have been jealous? If he saw some guy buying Toya a drink? Fuck yes.

He frowned at the thought, towelling himself off and ruffling his hair half dry before diving into bed, burying himself in the comforter and pulling an extra throw blanket on top. It was freezing in his apartment. Toya’s bed was so warm. Sometimes too warm, he thought, snorting softly at cozy memories as he smiled in the dark. It would be so warm if Toya was here now.

He groaned, stuffing his face in the pillow. He reached for his phone, checking to see if he had any messages from Komori. 

Nothing. No angry texts, no missed calls, and definitely none asking him to come over. He turned around, hugging one of his extra pillows to his chest, resting his chin above the top corner. 

It was probably for the best, this way. No emotionally charged messages or arguments. Even if Komori did care, Suna surely would have fucked it up with what he did tonight. On the off chance that Komori hadn’t seen him, it seemed like a good idea to cut things short before he found out. 

He didn’t want to hurt Toya, but he had a bad feeling that it was too late for that. He’d end things now, or at least take a break, until he could suppress his own guilty conscience enough to go back to him. It was more self-preserving than anything else, because the twist in his stomach when he thought about Komori finding out about this made him want to throw up. He didn’t think he could stand to face him, even if Komori didn’t know.

He cursed his track record of making stupid decisions. Somehow, while they always seemed fine in the moment, he ended up being the one to feel horrible about it later.

His brain wasn’t going to let him dive into a pit of self hatred that night. It was almost morning, he was exhausted physically and mentally, and needed sleep. Self hating could be postponed until tomorrow.

* * *

Notably, at afternoon practice the next day, Komori acted completely normal. At least, it seemed that way to Suna. They had never shown affection in public, so it’s not like he was prepared for anything different, but he had pessimistically expected something to be _off_. But Komori was still making jokes and poking fun at Suna as usual, which he took as a good sign. 

“WHERE’S YOUR SPLIT STEP? MOVE YOUR FAT ASS!” Komori yelled at him from the sidelines during a spike receive drill. 

Suna picked himself up off the floor, rolling his eyes and making a face at Komori as he jogged to the back of the line again.

So, he didn’t know? Or he did know, but wasn’t jealous? No acting out just to spite him? This was _good_ , right? 

If he didn’t know, then it was better this way, but… maybe he did want Komori to be mean to him. Tell him that he’s no good and that he’ll never see him again. 

Fuck. 

Either way, he wouldn’t poke the bear. As much as he wanted to see Komori that night, since it was a Friday, he would have to decline when Komori asked him to come over later. 

But later came and went, and as he sat in bed alone eating a konbini-bought dinner, no messages requesting his presence came. He kept circulating through his social media apps, waiting to see Komori Motoya’s name pop up on his screen. Why was he even waiting? Just to say no?

He threw his phone down in the blankets and frowned. He was supposed to be ghosting Komori, but how could he do that if Komori was ghosting him too?

He sifted through the sheets for his phone again and opened their conversation.

_SR: Hey_

He immediately regretted sending it, but he knew from experience that if he deleted it now, it would instead show as a message deleted by sender, and the implication of that was even worse than the original message. He threw his phone down again and tried to focus on the game he was watching. A minute later his phone buzzed and he snatched it up.

Ugh. Just a notification that his favorite delivery app was offering 20% off for the next two hours. Okay, not bad, but not what he was looking for. 

One hour later, he finally received the right LINE notification.

 _KM:_ _Hey, what’s up_

Alright. Now he could be the one to ghost. It was stupid, but it gave him a tiny bit of satisfaction. And, well, self satisfaction was a high priority of his. Dammit, this was why he always ruined good shit. 

He left his phone on the bed and stood up to stretch out, moving to his desk in the corner of the room. He logged onto his PC, started up PUBG, and played for the rest of the night, avoiding his problems.

* * *

Komori waited for a response from Suna. He’d already spent an hour agonizing over what to send back, wanting to give the impression that he was irritated. He was supposed to be ghosting Suna, but it was hard to ignore him completely, especially when he was dying to ask him to come over as the night ran on. 

Now he was just annoyed. What the fuck? Suna was the one who texted him– but now HE was going to not reply? Komori scowled and turned out the lights.

His plan was to ghost him; he had not planned farther than that yet. He was embarrassed that he’d been thinking about asking Suna to be something more up until a night ago. And he was afraid to tell Suna how last night made him feel, because Suna had already done it, so that meant he didn’t care what Komori felt. Or, he didn’t feel the same way about him. 

He was hoping that after enough time not talking, Suna would realize something was wrong without him having to say it. Maybe he’d confess everything and say he made a mistake; that he only wanted to be with Komori. Okay, that probably wouldn’t happen. At the very least, Komori was hoping he could make him grovel a little to get back in bed with him. He was tired of being the one to always ask Suna to come over.

It still hurt to think about. It was pathetic to admit, but he wasn’t ready to let Suna go. Did it make him a fool if he let the snake back into the nest? Yes. But the snake was sexy and hung and if he could get the snake on his knees, he figured it would be worth the bite. Yeah, snakes don’t have knees, but whatever. Also, he cared about the snake a lot, and even though his heart felt like it got stomped on, he still had a self-destructive hope that things with the snake would work out some day. Also, the snake still had his apartment key and it would be awkward to ask for it back.

He set his phone down on the nightstand with redoubled determination. After falling into his trap tonight, Komori was not going to give Suna the time of day until he came back begging. And if he didn’t, then fine. It was his loss.

* * *

The weekend passed. And then Monday and Tuesday, with radio silence on both ends. Deceptively cheerful faces (more like, average stoic face, in Suna’s case) at practice were strained by increasingly awkward interactions. After Suna’s stupid text Friday night, Komori had also begun to ghost him in person, while they both continued to refuse to acknowledge that they had suddenly stopped communicating. 

During their cool down stretch after Wednesday’s practice, Washio even mentioned it to Suna, apparently catching on to some tension between his two friends.

“Did you and Komori get in a fight or something?” he asked, briefly glancing over at the libero in question across the floor from them.

“No!” Suna said, too quickly. “No, we’re cool,” he clarified, more calmly, spreading his legs apart and leaning down, feeling the pull in his hamstrings and groin. “Why, did he say something?” he inquired, wondering if Washio could unknowingly give him an insight into what Komori was thinking.

“No, it just seems like you guys aren’t talking as much. But I guess you must be enjoying the peace and quiet, eh?” Washio commented, chuckling. Him and Suna were both the taciturn type, but somehow Komori had chattered his way into a friendship with them anyways. He was the only one of their teammates bold enough to find all of Suna’s buttons and push them relentlessly, and Washio found it amusing to watch.

Suna sat up straight and pulled his arm across his chest, stretching behind his shoulder. “Yeah,” he lied, also glancing at the libero, who was at the moment jabbering excitedly to Yokoyama on the other side of the court. He frowned, distressed that Washio had noticed that their interactions were different than usual.

After they finished stretching, Suna almost broke and confronted Komori when he saw him in the locker room. But they had never let anything spill over from their sex life to their real life. So he held his tongue and watched Komori leave, again. 

At this point, he felt like the person he was without Komori was just a role he was playing, and every night he’d go home and try his best to stay in that role instead of facing the uncomfortable reality that behind the act, he was missing him. He still felt guilty, and now that he knew Komori was ghosting him back, it was even worse. The assumption that Komori knew what he’d done plagued his thoughts. He should talk to him… but how could he possibly make up for it? Was there really anything he could say that would make it better?

* * *

That night, Komori’s frustration was also peaking. It had been days since they’d last talked, and in his opinion, Suna should have asked him to hang out again by now. He was getting angrier every day, fuming that Suna had seemingly no trouble ignoring him back. 

That was the worst part. It hurt even more seeing how easy it was for Suna to leave him alone. He started to think that he’d misread everything, and whatever he’d been beginning to feel for Suna was based on his own projections. 

Maybe all those kisses meant nothing. Same with the cuddling, the nights spent watching their favorite series, the way Suna looked at him– if he thought back on it, it could have all been meaningless, and he had been searching for something in those moments to satisfy his own subconscious desire for feelings that weren’t there at all.

If he’d been imagining it in the first place, then it was probably time to start moving on. 

He had other things to worry about, like that fact that he hadn’t had sex in almost two weeks at this point. Since he hadn’t had to worry about finding a partner for the last few months, his 9monsters profile was stale. He had no active conversations, and everyone he’d been talking to from before seemed completely uninteresting now. 

He scrolled through faces upon faces of men in his vicinity who he was sure would come over in an instant if he asked them to. Some even saw that he was online and started to message him. This was a game he didn’t feel like playing tonight. 

He sighed and glanced at his laptop. Technology would never hurt his feelings.

So instead he went to a porn website and clicked on a video titled _Spitroasted Twink Gets Creampied in Both Holes_ and took out his old friend, a translucent purple, fat, veiny dildo, and started taking care of himself. Because he didn’t need anyone else.

He set the laptop off to the side and leaned back against his pillows, slipping his pajama bottoms and underwear off and tossing them on the ground. He watched the guy in the middle start sucking a pixelated dick, and listened to the moaning and encouragement from the receiver. 

He pressed a lubed finger inside of himself unceremoniously, huffing out as he relaxed around it. His dick flopped onto his lower stomach, and he reached for it with his other hand, giving himself a pump to satisfy his slowly filling cock. 

A few minutes later, he had the tip of the dildo pressed against himself, and his head jerked back as he pushed it inside in one swift motion. He was panting slightly, stroking himself with one hand and fucking himself with the other, trying to match his pace with the sounds of slapping and moaning in the video. 

If he concentrated enough, he could almost drown out the sounds of the video, and imagine Suna ordering him to take his cock, and be a good boy, and telling him that he feels so good…

But one of the men in the video yelling that he was going to cum interrupted his imagination. 

His hands stopped moving and he groaned in frustration, still fixating on Suna instead of the spitroasted twink getting creampied in both holes. He grabbed a tissue and paused the video, wiping his hand off and picking up his phone.

_KM: Can you come over?_

He caught his breath, still recovering from his near-orgasm. His arm flopped on the bed, cock abandoned and throbbing, purple dildo still buried inside him. Only seconds later, he got a message back.

 _SR:_ _Yeah, when?_

_KM: Now_

Almost a week of ghosting wasted. But he was desperate and his pride was squashed by his need to get fucked by someone he knew could give it to him right.

And, as he clenched around the dildo, he figured he may as well continue to get ready while he waited.

45 minutes later (he’d given up on the toy and gotten dressed after 20), he heard a knock at the door and jumped out of bed. His heart started to flutter preemptively, and he readjusted his hair in the mirror on the wall quickly before taking a deep breath and grabbing the handle. 

* * *

Suna closed his eyes, legs loosely spread in his desk chair, sitting in front of his dual monitors. Moaning and whining played through his headphones. He swallowed thickly as he flicked his wrist up and down, the waistband of his sweatpants pulled down just enough to free his cock. 

He couldn’t quite get there no matter how hard he thought about Toya’s eyes rolling back and his flushed face underneath him, calling his name desperately. His hand was a sorry replacement for a tight asshole. Sure, it was reliable and had gotten the job done for the last few days, but he’d gone so long without seeing Komori, and now he was having withdrawals.

He thumbed the head of his cock lazily, sighing and clicking a different video. _Skinny Pool Boy Gets Fucked in the Ass HARD!_

He scrubbed through the video and squinted at the tiny thumbnail to see what positions it would include. At 7:43 the twink was getting pressed up against a glass sliding door– that would suffice. 

Just as he was forming his mental image of what Komori would look like getting fucked into a window, his phone buzzed. He glanced down and saw a LINE notification from Komori Motoya. Shit.

_KM: Can you come over?_

He was instantly vibrating with excitement. He glanced at the time. He looked horrible, he’d been playing video games all night, he had to shower–

_SR: Yeah, when?_

_KM: Now_

His dick twitched up in his lap. 

“I know, just hang on!” he said to it (to himself), standing up abruptly and stripping his clothes off as he hurried towards the shower. 

* * *

Suna was turning his own key into the lock just after knocking when suddenly, the door swung open in front of him. He reached forward to pull out the key automatically, and then looked up nervously as he finally saw Komori standing in front of him. 

He’d seen him at practice, but this was different, and they both knew it.

“Hey,” he said, not knowing what to do with his hands or what else to say. It had been days since they’d last spoken, over text or in person.

“Hey,” Komori said back, his eyes flicking up to look at Suna’s face. 

It was less than a second before Suna lunged forward, pushing Komori back into his apartment, up against the wall in the hallway, kissing him needily and letting out all of his pent up frustration.

Amidst lips clashing together and Komori’s hands sliding up his sides, he shook off his jacket and kicked off his shoes haphazardly, not paying attention to where they fell. He hooked an arm around Komori’s waist as his free hand pressed into the wall next to his head.

“Fuck,” Komori breathed out as Suna started devouring his neck, “I want you.” His hands were eager, shoving down into the front of Suna’s pants and groping his dick, resulting in a growling moan against his skin.

“Mm,” Suna hummed, bending his knees slightly and reaching behind Komori to hoist him up. Komori linked his arms and legs around Suna naturally as he carried him to the bedroom. He kissed his chin and jaw sloppily in gratitude and inhaled the scent of woodsy aftershave.

Suna kneed the door closed and threw Komori onto the mattress. Komori quickly took off his own clothes. He watched hungrily as Suna undressed and his cock sprung out, bobbing up and down as he climbed on the bed and knelt between his legs. Komori had already set out a condom and lube on the nightstand.

Suna placed his hands on either side of Komori’s head, craning down to kiss him again. Their wet tongues slipped and prodded around each other’s mouths, savoring the taste they had been missing. 

Suna blindly reached for the lube to rub some in between his fingers. Komori grabbed his wrist. 

“Just put it in,” he whined into his mouth. 

Suna was confused for a moment, but he tore open the condom instead as instructed, until he saw in the corner of his eye a purple dildo resting on a towel on the far nightstand. 

The thought of Komori using it on himself, trying to get off, just before he’d arrived, was threatening to send him over the edge before he even got inside. 

He rolled the condom on, slathered lube on himself and then lifted Komori’s legs up in the air, resting his ankles on his shoulders. Then he angled his cock down and pressed inside, easily sliding into Komori’s loosened hole. 

He threw his head back and cursed, holding Komori’s calves against his chest and thrusting into him, his mind going fuzzy and white at the attainment of what he’d been deprived of. 

He leaned forward, taking Komori’s legs with him. His forearms dug into the mattress. Komori’s knees were against his own chest, his feet flailing somewhere above Suna’s back, and his arms locked around his neck. 

“I’m not…” Suna grunted, holding a steady pace but struggling to prevent himself from rushing erratically with his thrusts, “gonna last long.”

“I’m gonna cum,” Komori gasped out. “Faster,” he demanded. 

The friction of his cock rubbing against Suna’s abs upon each thrust and the sensation of his asshole being filled was enough. Suna was obedient and picked up his pace. He looked down at Komori, and held his cheek in one hand. Komori looked up into pale green eyes. Suna’s lips parted and his thumb stroked the corner of Komori’s mouth wordlessly.

Komori closed his eyes and came. It spattered across his stomach, and he cried out as his arms tightened around Suna’s neck. 

Suna could feel Komori’s body spasming around him. He savored the familiar cry in his ear. Good, he didn’t have to hold out anymore. He lifted his head and watched Toya’s face twist in pleasure, indulging himself by leaning back down to muffle his sounds with his lips. With one last snap of his hips, he buried himself balls deep and emptied into the condom, groaning into Komori’s mouth.

They laid there locked together, panting in unison for a few moments.

“Sorry,” Suna said through heavy breaths, pulling out and peeling the condom off, reaching over Komori to throw it in the bin– “... that I couldn’t… that it didn’t last that long, it’s been–”

“It’s fine!” Komori blurted out, cleaning himself off with tissues. He scrambled under the sheets, hiding his naked body. 

Suna sat awkwardly next to him, on top of the duvet. He didn’t know if he should lie down, or leave; should he cuddle him? There was the same unfamiliar hesitation that he’d felt during their second or third time hooking up. 

Komori went on his phone, and stayed silent. Suna remained still next to him for a few moments, before he stood up and walked around the bed to rifle through his clothes on the floor.

Komori cringed as Suna sat down on top of the bed again, phone retrieved from his pants. A feeling of shame was growing in his gut, like he had just lost a bet, and now he was serving out the cruel and unusual punishment. He didn’t even blame Suna. He felt pathetic. How weak was he that he would ask Suna to come over? He was going to ignore how Suna sleeping with someone else had made him feel, just to fuck him again? He deserved better, and he was disappointed that he’d allowed himself to be in a situation like this. It wasn’t worth it. Not for a guy who didn’t want to be with him in the first place.

Suna kept eyeing the lump under the sheets next to him. He was overcome with guilt. He wanted to reach out and hold him, but he didn’t know if Komori wanted to be touched by him anymore. He knew that Komori deserved better than him. Why did he give in tonight? He could have said no, and saved Komori the pain. It would be better for Motoya if Suna never bothered him again. As much as he wanted to be with him still, the tension in the air made him feel like it was about to be over. 

“Are you good?” he asked hesitantly over his phone screen, breaking the silence and watching the mop of ginger fluff closely for signs of movement. 

“Yeah, why,” came the voice muffled by bedding. Komori was a terrible liar, and the salt behind his flat question stung.

“I don’t know, you’re just being quiet, I guess,” Suna said, nervously scratching his hand.

“I don’t have anything to say.”

Suna narrowed his eyes at the back of Komori’s head. Now he was just being annoying. “Okay, it kinda sounds like something’s up, though,” he replied, slightly accusingly. 

Komori took deep breaths into the mess of blankets he had tucked around his face. He didn’t want to turn around. If he looked into Suna’s eyes, or at the curve of his lip, or at the tip of his nose, or at the scar in his eyebrow that left a tiny notch, he’d just fall back in deeper. He gave himself a few moments to get the urge to start an argument out of his head.

“Suna, what are we doing?”

He spoke before he realized what he was saying. Too late to take it back. The question was out there, and now he was going to get an answer, whether he liked it or not. His breath hitched as he waited for a response.

“What do you mean?”

Komori cursed him under his breath. “Nevermind.” 

Fine. If he was going to be an idiot, then it saved Komori from the conversation he didn’t even want to have. But he was both afraid to know and dying to know what exactly they were doing with each other. 

“No, what do you mean? ‘What are we?’ Is that what you’re asking?”

His tone made Komori’s throat burn. 

“I said nevermind, just forget it,” he managed to say in an even voice, before he bit the inside of his lip to try and stop himself from breaking down.

There was no motion from behind him for a few minutes. Neither of them said anything. Komori concentrated on his breathing and attempted to distract himself by scrolling through his Twitter feed.

“I’m just… gonna go,” Suna said.

Komori felt weight disappear from the mattress and closed his eyes as Suna walked around to grab his clothes from the ground and get dressed quietly. He flipped the other way in bed to avoid making eye contact. Looking at him would hurt.

Suna shoved his hands in his pockets and gave one more glance to the bed. He sighed. Komori still didn’t acknowledge him.

“Bye, Toya,” he said with reluctant finality, before turning to leave the room and then making his way out the front door. 

When he was finally alone, Komori let go. He felt hot tears drip down his cheek onto the sheets.

What was he doing with himself?

He wanted Suna to stay, to wrap his arms around him, and kiss everything better. But he’d been paralyzed. Because if he said what he wanted, then Suna would only be doing it because he’d asked him to. What about him wasn’t enough for Suna? 

Was it that Suna would rather be with a girl? He couldn’t give that up for Komori? Or worse– Komori wasn’t worth committing to, because of his own shortcomings. He thought about what he could have done differently to get Suna to care about him. Maybe he should have told him everything before that night happened. Maybe if he hadn’t waited to say something, Suna wouldn’t have gone to someone else. 

He blinked away a new wave of tears and opened LINE, typing out a message through quiet sobs. He could barely see the screen.

_KM: I think we should stop seeing each other_

He dropped the phone to the mattress after hitting send and covered his face with both hands.

It was barely true. It was more of a question to Suna– another lifeline extended, silently begging him to say no, to protest, to choose Komori even if he pushed him away.

* * *

Suna sat silently in the taxi on the way back to his place. He propped his elbow on the ledge of the door, resting his chin in his hand and staring out the window. He watched the lit up signs on storefronts fly by.

He wished he would have stayed, and taken Komori into his arms, and told him that he couldn’t stop thinking about him. That he never wanted to hurt him. That he wanted a chance to do this right, give him everything he deserved.

But he didn’t know if he _could_ give him what he deserved. He deserved someone better than him, someone who wouldn’t make stupid fucking mistakes, someone who wasn’t a coward and would tell him over and over again what he meant to them. He deserved everything. 

His phone screen flashed on his lap.

_KM: I think we should stop seeing each other_

His thumbs hovered over the keyboard. 

What?

None of this was right. 

It was his own fault. And Komori was right to want to stop seeing him. Suna wasn’t good. At least, not for someone like Komori. He shouldn’t have gone to him; he should have left him alone. Even if he didn’t want it to end, what _he_ wanted wasn't worth hurting him again. He knew that he would hurt Komori again, because he always hurt people. His heart sank. He wanted to say no, to protest, to choose him, but he wouldn’t make it harder for Komori to let him go. He’d made a mistake tonight, going to see him, but he could stop himself from repeating it now.

_SR: yeah, i think so too_

_SR: i’m sorry_

_SR: if i hurt you_

_SR: i hope we can still be cool_

He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

So tonight was the last time after all. What a shitty last time. 

He hadn’t thought about their last time before. Ending things had never crossed his mind. But now that it was over, he wondered what could have been, if they kept going. Maybe if Komori felt the same way about him and he hadn’t fucked it up, they could have been something, after all. 

There was nothing to do about it now besides try and get over him. 

* * *

Komori felt a knife to his chest as he read Suna’s replies. 

So that was it. 

He wasn’t going to fight it. He was going to let Komori go, as if nothing had ever happened. 

Komori’s gut wrenched, and he started to feel dizzy, like he didn’t know what was real anymore.

His mind was at processing capacity, feeling a hundred emotions, wanting to say a hundred things. Until it burnt out, and he went numb. 

He set his phone down carefully on the nightstand and laid there in bed. He’d stopped crying, but didn’t move to wipe his face. He just held still, wondering why he had ever thought that Suna might choose him.

It was time to bury that name, forget about the times he’d yelled it and the times he’d whispered it. At least, for now, he needed to hold onto his numbness to protect himself. 

He was just a hookup, anyways. 

They were friends with benefits. 

No strings attached, no hard feelings, when it was done, it was done– it was just for fun.

Komori had felt too much over this. So he allowed himself to continue to sink into the feeling of emptiness. He turned on his favorite show and stared at the screen, lulling himself into a false sense of security. Ringo snuck into the room and pounced on the bed, curling into his side.

As long as he stayed right there, in limbo between today and tomorrow, he could avoid accepting that this was actually happening. If the sun never rose, then he’d never have to face the day where him and Suna were over. He existed, until gray-blue morning light began invading his bedroom, and he was forced to fall asleep by his body calling on him to rest.

* * *

The next day, Thursday, Suna waited nervously for Komori to show up to practice. He sat on the bench in front of his locker, knee bouncing, and munching on an energy bar, with ten minutes to go until they had to be on the court for announcements. He’d barely slept the night before, instead tossing and turning while he mulled over every stupid decision he’d ever made. There was plenty of fodder for that.

He considered messaging him. 

Terrible idea. But he was sort of sickly fixated on seeing him in person again. He didn’t know what he would even say to him. There was impending doom hanging over the next time they would inevitably be face to face. At the same time, he felt a low-burning excitement in his gut as he waited for a slender man in a too-big yellow tracksuit to appear in the locker room.

“Hey, you ready? C’mon, let’s go,” Sarukui Nagito, a younger outside hitter, called cheerfully to him across the room. They were the only two left; everyone else had already gone out to hit a few balls earlier.

Suna looked up. “Yeah, alright,” he grumbled, standing up and following Sarukui out into the gym. For Komori’s sake, he hoped he made it on time. It wasn’t like him to be late.

“You good, man?” Sarukui asked over his shoulder, slightly concerned at Suna’s pensive expression. Not that he was usually a bundle of joy, but he’d never seemed this preoccupied before.

“Hm? Yeah, fine,” Suna said, plopping down on the end of the courtside bench where everyone was already sitting, waiting for Coach Suzuki to tell them the plan for the day. 

Coach nodded when Suna and Sarukui joined them. “O-kay, everyone, first things first, some updates– the match Saturday has been moved to 4pm. I know it’s last minute, but there was a scheduling conflict with the network. Secondly, Komori’s not going to be here today, so Yokoyama, you’ll need to be on Team White for scrimmages later. We’re starting with a 3k. You can use the track or treadmill. Be back on the court in 20 minutes.” He clapped his hands together and everyone leapt to their feet. The faster they finished the run, the more precious seconds of rest time they’d have before drills. 

Suna hustled to the weight room. A misconception about him was that he never worked harder than he had to. For the most part this was true, except when it came to timed exercises. If he could have a longer break by going faster, then he was going to give it his all. He was actually one of the fastest runners on the team. He always came second to one person, though.

Suna stepped on a treadmill and held down the speed until it was at 16 kph, picking up into a sprint.

Not at practice? This couldn’t be good. Komori never missed practice. One time he’d had the stomach flu and showed up anyways, no one noticing anything was wrong until he’d fainted in the middle of a spiking drill. He’d gotten chewed out by the athletic trainer for that stunt.

12 minutes later, he hit 3 km on the odometer and halved the speed, then after a minute, halved it again, relaxing into a walk. He grabbed his water bottle, sipping from it slowly between heavy breaths. 

“Komori must be _really_ sick, huh?” Maruyama Kota, the starting setter, commented from his right, finishing up his own run on the treadmill next to him.

“Yeah, probably,” Suna replied lazily. _Doubt it_ , he thought pessimistically, grimacing.

“Did he message you anything about it earlier?”

Suna raised an eyebrow and turned off his machine. “No, why?” he asked, snappier than he wanted to, leaning over the console. Did other people know about their… activities? Did they think they were dating? That idea gave him a strange sense of satisfaction.

“I just thought you guys were friends, like, with Washio too, you know?” the setter explained, slightly confused at the reaction, panicking that he’d accidentally touched on something that Suna was sensitive about. This was unusual for the reserved middle blocker, but he was kind of scared of him, so he wasn’t going to press him.

“Oh. Yeah, we are. I messaged him but he didn’t respond. Maybe he’s sleeping, or something,” Suna said, lying for no reason at all, except to maintain the act that everything was fine and dandy between him and Komori. He grabbed his towel and water bottle and left, cutting the conversation with Maruyama short. He wasn’t in the mood for chatting. Komori was usually the only one who made an attempt to talk to him, anyways. 

He was itching to sneak back into the locker room and actually message him. He was worried. Would Komori skip practice because he was upset? Or was he actually sick? He seemed fine last night when they… 

That barely seemed real, now. Suna couldn’t even think about it without feeling guilty. If Komori wasn’t sick, then maybe he had a death in the family. Or maybe his apartment building caught on fire. All of these possibilities somehow seemed better to Suna than the most likely: he was at home, nursing a bruised heart.

If that was true, then Suna really _had_ fucked up. Komori knew everything. And though Suna had been hanging onto the hope that he didn’t know, he wasn’t that naive. He wasn’t surprised that Komori knew, but he had no idea that it had affected him like this. He’d probably been crushed when Suna slept with that girl. But maybe he’d been afraid to say something because he didn’t want to jeopardize what they had. 

That killed Suna. He’d had Komori’s heart already, and broken it without even knowing. 

The realization unlocked something in his own heart. He felt all of his suppressed affection rolling out, as if it had been summoned forth by the knowledge that Komori had indeed cared for him. It ached. He wanted to go to him.

It was too late for it to matter. Komori was safer– happier– without Suna. And so he’d have to keep this pain to himself. He couldn’t put it on him, ask him to give him another chance. He didn’t deserve one. 

* * *

Sakusa Kiyoomi was relaxing on the couch in his shared apartment with Miya Atsumu on Thursday evening. He had his head in Atsumu’s lap, reading an article on his phone about a new species of monkey recently discovered in Brazil. He was about to comment to Atsumu that it looked like him, when he got a LINE notification from Komori Motoya.

_KM: Hey do you have a min?_

_KM: To call?_

Sakusa sat up and typed back.

_SK: Sure, I’ll call you in a sec_

He glanced at Atsumu. “Hey, Motoya wants to talk, I’m gonna go in the bedroom.”

“Huh? Why can’t I listen?” Atsumu complained, tugging on Sakusa’s waist and trying to get him to lay down again. 

Sakusa rolled his eyes and gave him a kiss. “Because I don’t know what he wants to talk about. Also, you don’t need to be included in every conversation I have. I don’t know, it’s weird that he messaged me.”

“Fine. But come back soon, I want cudduwls,” Atsumu said in his baby voice reserved for when they were in total privacy, making grabby hands at him as he stood up from the couch.

Sakusa scoffed and batted his hands away, all the while melting inside. He slipped into the bedroom and shut the door behind him, settling in on top of the bed before he unlocked his phone and video called Motoya. 

“Hey,” came his cousin’s voice through the phone. His normally exuberant face looked only mildly happy. He was in bed too, surrounded by blankets and pillows, his hair messy and his eyes puffy. Sakusa frowned.

“Hey, what’s up?” he asked, an edge of hesitation in his voice. It was unusual for his cousin to request to call like this; it was actually Sakusa who often called him for advice. 

“Nothing, I just… I don’t know, some stuff’s been going on, and I wanted to talk to someone who could give me their unbiased opinion.”

Sakusa pursed his lips. He would kill in his cousin’s name, so he couldn’t exactly be as unbiased as Komori expected of him. If anyone ever upset this precious, magical sunflower of a person, Sakusa would not hesitate to crush them like a bug. 

“Okay… what happened?” he asked slowly, suppressing his irritation at the thought of something bad happening to Motoya until he’d heard the full story.

Komori explained that he’d been hooking up with Suna for a few months. Then he saw him go home with someone else one night. Then he tried to ghost him, but ended up sleeping with him again last night anyways, only to regret it and tell him they should stop hanging out. 

“But Kiyo, I still want him… I don’t know what to do, I think I was really starting to like him, I know this is for the best, but… ugh, why do I want to message him!?” Komori groaned, pressing the palm of his hand into his forehead. 

Sakusa was fuming. “Motoya. He’s a piece of shit. You deserve way better. He basically cheated on you. Do you know his address?” 

“What? I’m not telling you that. I mean, he didn’t _cheat_ , ‘cause we weren’t exclusive or anything in the first place, so I feel like it’s not even that bad…”

He narrowed his eyes at the screen. “Okay, whatever. Either way, you deserve someone who wouldn’t even _think_ about anyone but you. You know I have so many friends who would treat you right. I can set you up. Anytime. I don’t want you to get hurt, Motoya.” He was already imagining the way he would knock on Suna’s door, cock his fist back, swing forward with the same force he used to spike a volleyball...

“Ugh, Kiyo, I know… thank you for caring. I don’t want to be set up. Hah, I can handle it on my own… maybe you’re right, though. I should rebound. _Oh my god_ ,” he said, suddenly slapping a hand over his mouth as his eyes widened. “We’re playing the Hornets on Saturday…”

Sakusa pointed into the camera. “Yes. YES!” he said, breaking into a grin. “Seriously, Motoya… I’m sorry Suna did that to you. If you decide to get back with him, I’ll understand, you know I’ll always support you. But I really think you should be with someone who values you more. If you do see Iizuna, tell him I said hi, okay?”

Komori smiled. “Yeah, I will. Thanks again, Kiyo, I’m gonna go eat… I’ll keep you posted,” he reassured him, before the two said goodbye and Sakusa ended the call. 

He got up from the bed and slid his phone into his pocket. He was pleased with the thought of Komori meeting up with Iizuna again, his old high school ex. That would be good for him. But that thought only lasted a moment before his mind shifted back to a former Inarizaki middle blocker that was now at the top of his hit list. 

He swung open the door and stepped back into the living room. Atsumu turned his head and smiled at him obliviously. 

“ _ATSUMU!”_

Atsumu’s face fell. He did not think he was going to be getting more cuddles. 

* * *

_MA: Bro. You gotta fix this Komori shit_

_SR: ?_

_MA: Don’t ? me_

_MA: He told Omi. Guess who got crucified in your place_

_SR: what did he say?_

_MA: Idk, Omi didn’t tell me everything, just that you were fucking with his feelings and you’re a piece of shit for that, and I’m a piece of shit for being associated with you_

_MA: His words not mine_

_MA: Man idk the whole story but it seems kinda whack_

_SR: yea i know i fucked up_

_SR: we were hooking up like on the low but then i fucked this other girl when i was drunk_

_SR: but i didnt know he liked me, like enough to care about that_

_SR: and then i was like well fuck i like him too so why did i do that_

_SR: then it all went to shit_

_MA: F_

_MA: I think you can still finesse it_

_MA: Like if you both liked each other I think you can work it out_

_SR: well what am i supposed to do? hes the one whos mad at me_

_MA: Idk, do you want to date him for real? Or just keep fucking but like with feelings now_

_SR: id date him_

_SR: shiiiiiiiiit_

_SR: idk what to do_

_MA: Just do some grand romantic gesture_

_MA: Like go outside his apartment and hold a boombox over your head_

_MA: Lol_

_SR: god_

_SR: ill figure it out_

_SR: sorry sakusa got mad at you_

_SR: thanks though this was somehow helpful_

_MA: Eh it’s fine_

_MA: I don’t think he’s mad anymore_

_MA: ;)_

_SR: ok cringe bye_

* * *

Friday morning, Komori returned to practice. 

Suna hadn’t messaged him since their fateful conversation Wednesday night. He still didn’t know what he would say. But now he was determined to say _something_. A part of him was scared that it was too late, but he had to try.

Knowing that Komori had told his cousin about what had happened was another punch to the gut, but also confirmation that there was a chance he could salvage things. Atsumu was right, he had to do something, but he kept flip flopping between leaving him alone and reaching out. Which one would be better for Komori?

The answer to that seemed clear. He should leave him alone. But he was greedy and didn’t want to give up when he felt like there was a happy ending in sight. One where he could wake up to Motoya again. Maybe he was being optimistic for once, but he thought if he could tell him how he felt and apologize for everything, Komori might let him back into his life. 

And shit, he’d never felt like this before, so close to something good, and pure. He wanted to stay in that light as long as he could. He’d fly towards the sun even if it meant his wings could burn and send him falling, because what if he made it? What if he could really reach the sun?

Komori walked into the locker room and the rest of EJP Raijin greeted and fussed over him, asking him how he was feeling, if he needed any help, insisting my-brother’s-a-doctor-and-I-can-call-him-for-you. 

Suna snorted to himself, amused at the reception Komori got after a single day of practice missed. Life was pretty great when you were everyone’s favorite person. Komori avoided eye contact with him, though Suna stared at him from the bench while he unpacked his bag and began to change. 

He stood up and walked across the room, stopping a few feet away from where Komori was pulling his practice jersey over his head.

“Hi,” he said, sticking his hands in the waistband of his shorts anxiously. 

Komori glanced at him, a placid face revealing no emotions. But that in itself was a sign. Suna could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen Komori without a smile. To his chagrin, he realized all of those occasions had been in the last two weeks. It stung, again, to know that he was the only thing terrible enough to make Komori’s expression joyless.

Komori slung his jacket back over his shoulders and then sat down, taking out his phone and typing rapidly, but ignoring Suna. 

Suna glanced around the room to see if anyone was watching them. Everyone else was either filing out into the gym or listening to warm-up music through headphones. “Are you okay?” he asked hesitantly. 

Komori quickly peered around the room too. He sighed, and looked like he was about to say something, but instead he set his phone in his bag and then stood up, walking right past Suna. 

Suna felt a flash of anger. To be ignored outright was infuriating. He wanted to turn around and grab him by the shoulders, make a scene, demand that he tell him what he was thinking. But that’s not how relationships worked. He couldn’t force Komori to do anything. Not to look at him, listen to him, speak to him, or care about him still. He wished that he could accept that, but right now, he was just fucking frustrated. 

Unwavering, Komori didn’t say another word to him all of practice. Suna left him alone, too, silently brooding over how to approach him again. Being ignored wasn’t enough to put him off. He saw Komori’s hesitation earlier. If he could at least get him to agree to talk, maybe not here, but to meet somewhere, or call, or even just message later, he’d try and find the right words to say.

He watched Komori change back into his street clothes after the showers. It was a stupid time to think about it, but he missed touching him, and the small towel hung around his hips wasn’t helping. He wanted to walk across the room and press him into the lockers and kiss their stupid problems away. 

Instead, Suna waited quietly, pretending to be busy on his phone until Komori finally left. 

Suna jumped up and followed him outside, catching up with him in the hallway. He thought about reaching out to tap him on the shoulder, but retracted his hand, just as Komori stopped walking and whipped around to face him. 

“What? What do you want? You’ve been staring at me all fucking day.”

Komori glared at him, his fists balled at his sides.

Suna flinched. “I just want to know if you’re okay, I mean, if we’re cool?” he stammered, hiding his hands in his pockets and picking at the fabric inside nervously and looking at the floor. He couldn’t bear Komori’s angry expression.

Komori’s voice calmed. “Look, I’ll be fine, and we can be friends again someday, I just–”

“Well, can we talk?” Suna blurted out, looking up and searching desperately for any of the fondness he used to find in Komori’s light brown eyes. “Tonight? Or, I don’t know, whenever you’re free, I just wanted to talk to you.”

Komori’s eyes looked apologetic and sad, not fond. He stared back at Suna as they scoured each other’s faces for any deeper meaning. He dropped his gaze. 

“I can’t. I just need space right now. I’m sorry.”

Suna’s stomach twisted. “No, Motoya, you don’t have to say sorry. I’m sorry I asked. See you– uh, at the match, then.” 

Komori only nodded, and then turned away, leaving Suna standing in the empty arena hallway. He watched him walk out of the glass doors onto the street until he disappeared from view.

His heart was racing and he started to feel his chest tighten. What? What was happening? He couldn’t do this now, here. Fuck, he hadn’t cried in years. He didn’t even remember the last time. He blinked and rubbed his eyes with his palms, swearing for no one to hear. 

He took a few deep breaths until he could center himself, using all of his willpower to avoid spilling the tears that were ready at the gate. Just one managed to sneak past his defenses, rolling down his cheek. He quickly wiped it with a swipe of his sleeve, so there was no evidence of his emotions. 

He could give him space. Even if all he wanted was to be locked in orbit, at the mercy of the gravity of his solar system’s bright red star. 

* * *

Suna stayed true to his word on Saturday. During the team meeting, during warm-ups, during the first two sets against the Hornets. He left Komori alone, and it was surprisingly amicable. There was no animosity, no subtle digs, no tension.

They had a match to focus on winning. Which should have been ample distraction for Suna.

It was set point against the Hornets. Suna lined up for his serve, taking a deep breath. As soon as the whistle blew, he ran forward, jumping into the air and smacking the ball over the net as hard as he could, aiming right between the receivers in the back court. 

After a subpar bump, the ball rainbowed back over to their side. Maruyama made the tiniest set, giving the ball a second of extra hang time, and Sarukui slammed it straight down, angled just away from where the blockers were rushing to stop him. The ball hit the floor just a few feet from the net.

The crowd roared. They were now up 2-1.

“LET’S GO!” Komori shouted from the sidelines, somehow with the loudest voice on the team, despite being the smallest player. He rushed onto the court and jumped on Sarukui, pushing down on his shoulders as he hopped into the air excitedly, and ruffling the younger player’s hair.

Suna made his way to the bench and grabbed his water and towel, wiping the sweat from his forehead. 

“Nice serve, Suna!” Washio said, patting his back while he wiped his own forehead. 

“Thanks,” Suna replied unenthusiastically, staring at Komori and Sarukui. 

It was plainly obvious to him that Komori was continuing to ignore him, even during the match. Sure, not everyone was the best of friends on the team, and he was giving him ‘space,’ but he’d usually receive overzealous praise from the libero during their attack rotations. He usually ignored him, finding it embarrassing, until today, when he was annoyingly aware that everyone was in Komori’s good graces besides him. 

Encouragement from Komori was like injecting adrenaline straight into the veins. He had seemingly endless energy to shout at his teammates, even after coming off the court from his own gruelling points, or in the middle of a heated rally. He was hyper attentive whether he was in or out, calling out each and every smart move pulled off successfully, or telling them ‘Don’t mind!’ if they made a mistake. Getting a ‘Nice receive!’ from one of the best liberos in the league was a guaranteed ego boost. While Komori’s support was generous and consistent, it still managed to make a person feel like they were on top of the world every time.

Suna was not happy to be excluded. But when he got angry, he played better.

He was on fire in the fourth set. It felt like it was the league championship and they were neck and neck, not a regular season match that they were already poised to win. He nailed spike after spike, calling for a toss from Maruyama more times than he had for the rest of the season combined. Because he was playing for something far more covetable than a trophy. 

And every time the point was won with Maruyama’s set or Washio’s block receiving that golden praise instead of his kill, it made him even angrier. 

He knew he was being immature. Each point was a team effort, so he shouldn’t be jealous if others got their credit. But it didn’t matter that Coach Suzuki’s jaw was on the floor as he hustled for every ball like it was his last. It didn’t matter that everyone else was going crazy for him– his teammates, the crowd, the announcers– or that they were up by 5, and about to be at match point. 

He wanted to hear the sound of _him_ cheering his name again. Because it was damn cold in the arena without it. 

The match ended. They won the fourth set in 30 minutes, making it 3-1. No surprises; they’d been predicted to win.

Suna came off the court exhausted and in a foul mood. Though he’d played bizarrely well, it didn’t give him any satisfaction. 

An interviewer and small camera crew approached him immediately, while he was chugging water and gnawing on the nozzle, thinking about how quickly he could be at home in bed.

“Suna Rintarou! Amazing game from you today! Was there anything in particular motivating your ferociousness on the court?”

He was still irritated and dripping with sweat. “Thank you, and not really, I just had some extra energy,” he said monotonously, glancing into the camera and then at the court. 

“Is it true that you’re considering signing with MSBY next year in your free agency?”

On the other side of the net, Komori was also being interviewed. With the Hornets setter next to him. They were smiling and laughing with the interviewer, and the setter had his arm around Motoya’s shoulders. They posed together for a photographer, leaning in slightly and beaming. Komori held up a peace sign. The setter gave him a friendly squeeze before letting go. They bowed to the crew, who moved on to the Hornets coach, and then turned to each other, continuing their own conversation. Suna could only see Komori’s face, the other’s back was turned to him. His eyes looked happy.

“I’m hoping to stay with EJP.”

* * *

When Suna made it home two hours later and flopped on his bed, he was fully prepared to remain there for the rest of the night. He wasn’t in the mood for celebration or drinking. Okay, maybe drinking would be good, but he’d rather do it alone. And then he could play video games or watch TV the rest of the night in peace. Yeah, that sounded great. 

But Komori knew Iizuna. Suna had looked up the Hornets setter as soon as he left the arena. An Itachiyama alum, and Komori’s old captain at that. He scrolled to the very bottom of Komori’s Instagram page, to see if there was any more evidence of what their relationship was. Nothing there but some goofy photos of him in class and at high school tournaments. He checked his tagged photos.

Posted four years ago by someone Suna assumed to be Komori’s old classmate was the photo he was hoping not to find. It was taken across a cafe booth, showing teenage Komori and Iizuna sitting together, the older’s arm slung across the other’s shoulders like Suna had seen today on the court. The caption: _cute, right?_

‘Cute, right?’ What did that mean? Maybe they were just cute friends. Right? He shouldn’t read into it too much. Right?

Cute, right?

Fucking hell.

He switched to the LINE app and messaged Sarukui. Washio would get too suspicious. 

_SR: hey_

_SR: do you know if komori is going out tonight_

_SN: hey!_

_SN: i’m pretty sure, he was talking about it after you left_

_SN: are you?_

_SR: idk yet_

_SR: maybe_

_SN: you feeling ok? you just dipped after the meeting_

_SN: good game btw haha you were on one_

_SR: thanks_

_SR: yea im good_

_SR: i think ill see you tonight_

_SN: ok! see you bro_

He didn’t want to go. But the interaction he’d seen today was eating at him. 

Komori wasn’t his. And whatever they may have had before was certainly long gone now. But he couldn’t shake the thought of someone hitting on him, dancing with him, taking him home. If he didn’t go, then he wouldn’t know if Komori was with someone else, and that made him anxious. Even though it would probably be better to not go at all, and convince himself that he didn’t care, he couldn’t. He cared, and he had to _know_. 

And if he did see him smiling with someone else, maybe that would make it easier to let him go. 

It was kind of a stupid plan, but he figured he might as well maintain his track record. He wouldn’t bother Komori; he just wanted to be there, so he could…

Well, he didn’t know what he would do. But he’d figure that out later. He rolled out of bed to go shower again and start getting ready. 

* * *

Suna arrived late to the club. It was almost midnight already, but he’d gone back and forth between showing up at all, until he saw Maruyama’s story of a selfie with the Hornets’ ace. Fuck. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but he showed up anyways, making his way up to the VIP section to search for Komori.

He sat down on the couches after being greeted by his teammates over loud music, and nodded to the Hornets players who had joined them for the night. As with any group of pro players, there were old high school and college friendships to reminisce and rekindle. Everyone was pretty drunk by now, but instead of wanting to catch up as quickly as he could, it made Suna grimace. 

He stayed for a few minutes, scanning the area for ginger hair. It should have been easy to pick him out, but he didn’t think Komori was there. Strobe lights in time with the music suddenly interrupted his search, making him flinch and close his eyes until they were done.

“Hey, is Komori here?” he asked Maruyama as casually as possible after he opened his eyes, who was next to him on the couch, taking a gulp of beer, red in the face.

Maruyama swallowed and waved with his hand while he couldn’t speak. He wiped his mouth. “Yeah! He went to the bar a while ago, I think he’s still back there,” he said, words slurring, jerking his head back towards the adjacent room on the mezzanine floor, which held a larger bar and more seating. 

Suna nodded. “Cool, thanks,” he said. He didn’t want Maruyama to notice if he immediately went into the other room. Maybe he was overthinking it. Him and Komori were supposed to be friends, so Maruyama wouldn’t find it weird if he went to find him, right?

He waited a few more minutes on the couch, nodding and adding meaningless comments to the conversation as required to make it seem like he was interested in what they were talking about. Fortunately, no one gave him shit for it, since he was usually quiet anyways. The loner reputation paid off on the odd occasion. 

“Oh, Suna, by the way, I saw that girl downstairs earlier,” Maruyama added, raising his eyebrows and elbowing him in the side. 

“What girl?”

“The girl you went home with last time, when we were all here? She’s cute, I might have to swoop in,” Maruyama teased, snickering and trying to get a rise out of Suna.

Suna frowned slightly. “Oh, yeah. Good luck,” he said, feeling his heart clench. He stood up and walked away without explanation, heading for the back room.

The room was dark, save for an elaborate light fixture hanging in the middle of the ceiling with red bulbs, and a purple glow lining the underside of the bar. It was fairly empty, with a few small groups posting up in the seating area along the walls, and some people leaning over the counter to order a drink. The music was different, a little bit softer so conversations could be had, and the genre slow R&B rather than the exhilarating and pulsating rap remixes that the DJ on the main stage the floor below was spinning. 

He shoved his hand in his pockets when he entered, adjusting to the new light and sound. He saw him immediately.

Komori sat on a stool at the bar, his shoes propped up on the footrest beneath him, causing his knees to splay apart. He was slightly hunched over, but craning his head up to look at the man standing in front of him. His eyes flicked over to Suna when he walked in, and then quickly back to his companion.

Iizuna was only a bit taller than Komori, but he was bulkier, with veins creeping up his forearms before disappearing into the rolled cuff of his black shirt. His hand rested on Komori’s waist, fingers tapping his lower back lightly as Komori blushed and laughed at his words. 

A large black jacket was tossed over Komori’s shoulders, enveloping him. He held Iizuna’s free hand loosely in his lap.

He was smiling, eyes sparkling, ginger brows rising and falling playfully. 

Suna felt like all of the air had left the room. He couldn’t tear his gaze away, though he found it sickening to look at. He half-realized he was standing in the way of someone else trying to enter, so he found his feet walking him over to the bar, off to the side, where he could still see Komori’s face. 

“What can I get you, sir?”

He noticed one of the bartenders wiping a glass down with his head tilted as he looked at Suna expectantly. 

“Oh. Uh, can I just have a water, please?” he said, becoming aware of the dryness in his mouth and throat. He swallowed. 

The bartender nodded and filled a cup with ice, then grabbed a bottle from the mini fridge and poured it over, setting both in front of Suna. 

“Thanks,” Suna said. He picked up the cup and downed it, looking over the rim back at Komori. Komori glanced back at him again as Iizuna leaned in to say something close to his ear, and then left, walking towards the hall with the bathrooms. 

Suna briefly considered following Iizuna instead of going up to Komori, and beating the shit out of him. But he knew that wouldn’t fix anything and before he could stop himself he was setting the cup down and rounding the corner of the bar, approaching where Komori was still sitting. Fuck space.

He was smiling and looking at his phone, elbow leaning on the counter, the jacket still cocooning him. Suna wanted to throw it on the ground. 

“Hey,” he said, announcing his presence. 

Komori looked up from his screen. “Oh. Hey,” he said, as if he hadn’t seen Suna until now, his tone souring and his attention returning to his phone.

Suna stood awkwardly in front of him, grabbing his opposite arm to stop his fidgeting. “Uh…” he started, not sure where he was going with this– “do you wannagosomewhere? With me?” he asked, the first words that came to mind spilling out. Shit. All he wanted to do was take Komori away from here, somewhere only he could see him, and touch him, so he would know for sure that no one else was with him. Especially not Iizuna. He studied Komori’s face anxiously.

Komori covered his mouth with his hand and winced. But he wasn’t in pain– he was muffling a laugh. 

“Are you stupid?” he said quietly, snorting to himself, looking at the ground.

“What?” Suna said, breath hitching.

“Are you _stupid?_ ” Komori repeated, this time viciously, lifting his head to deliver a death glare to Suna. Suna could only stare back, frozen in submission. “Did you think I’d say yes? Is that all you think of me? That I’d just go home with you after you–” he spat, biting his words back at the end. “You think I’m that desperate?” His voice cracked, almost imperceptibly, but not to Suna. “You’re fucking crazy.”

“Toya, I–”

“Don’t call me that,” Komori hissed, averting his eyes. Suna’s head was spinning. He remembered he was still sober. Nothing came out of his mouth, but his feet remained planted in front of Komori. His heart was in his throat. 

“Hey! Who’s this?”

Iizuna had returned, walking up from behind Komori and touching his back. He ran a hand through his hair, smiling at both of them.

Komori’s attitude disappeared, and he managed a smile back at him. “This is one of my teammates, Suna. He was just asking me something, but he’s leaving now,” he said, giving Suna a pointed glance. 

Suna glared back at him. He felt his blood simmering as he looked at Komori’s disinterested gaze. He ignored Iizuna.

“Oh! I remember you! You were scary out there today, man. Wish you were on my team,” Iizuna joked, his eyes lighting up as he recognized Suna. He looked between the two of them, oblivious to any residual tension.

Suna looked at Iizuna. He studied his face. His cheeks were flushed from drinking, his smile friendly, and genuine. He was handsome. He looked back at Komori, who met his gaze one last time. His eyes told him to leave. 

Suna shook his head. He didn’t respond to Iizuna. He just left, walking out of the room, through the VIP section, down the stairs, through the crowd, and outside, into the biting night air. 

He struggled to breathe, inhaling sharply, his breath clouding in front of him as he pulled out his phone, fingers fumbling to the taxi app. 

He must have called one, because suddenly his phone was back in his pocket, and he was crossing his arms over his chest, trying to keep himself warm over his black cashmere turtleneck. Cars zipped by, and he could hear music still thumping inside the club. It had been much louder inside, but now he felt like every noise was deafening. 

He was in a taxi. Shitty old American pop music was playing from the radio while the driver hummed along.

_You can leave a toothbrush at my place._

“Can you turn off the music?” Suna blurted out, ducking his head and running his hands up the sides, gripping his own hair and staring at his lap. 

Silence, finally.

He was in his room, staring at an open conversation. Nothing sent between the two of them for three nights. 

_SR: komori_

_SR: can we please talk_

_SR: i like you_

_SR: i dont want us to be over_

_SR: please just talk to me_

He didn’t know what else to say at that point. He’d already lost him. Komori had no reason to listen to him. He even felt guilty about his stupid text confession, wondering if Komori would think he was just saying it to get him to agree to talk. Probably. 

He groaned, curling onto his side and dropping his phone on the nightstand. It was after 1, according to his alarm clock. 

He stayed wide awake, even though his body was exhausted from the match and the stress he’d experienced at the club. It had been fight or flight, and he’d chosen flight, again. 

All he could think about was Iizuna. And that was the last thing he wanted to be fucking thinking about. What plagued his mind was disgusting. Iizuna and Komori kissing on Komori’s bed. Iizuna’s lips on his neck, Komori’s head tilted back in ecstasy, while Iizuna’s hips moved into him. Even his imagination wanted him to suffer. He felt his stomach flip, but this time, like he was actually going to vomit. 

He snapped his eyes shut, thrashing onto his other side and feeling for the remote, tasting bile in his mouth but using every ounce of concentration to hold it back. He turned on the TV, and brought his attention to picking something to watch absently. His mind was still torturing him, but he could put those nightmares in the background, at least, by distracting himself. 

He picked up his phone, though he had no notifications. He turned on the ringer, so he’d be sure to know as soon as Komori replied. 

The opening credits of a slapstick comedy movie played, something that he’d chosen to explicitly avoid any romantic subplots. 

It succeeded in keeping his mind off of what he feared was happening somewhere else in Tokyo. His fears worsened as the clock ticked by with no word from Komori. He was thirsty, but he didn’t want to leave to get water. He kept checking their conversation, rereading what he’d sent, debating if he should say anything else. He didn’t. Because he was supposed to be giving him space, and he’d failed, miserably, like he did with most things.

He started to think that he shouldn’t have said anything at all, when finally, he heard his message tone. 

_KM: Ok_

_KM: Come over tomorrow_

_KM: At 2_

Suna’s head spun. He was going to have a chance to say everything. This was the last time. He knew that if he fucked it up again, there was no way that he would ever be with Komori Motoya. His heart raced with excitement, but the rest of his body was rejoicing as his brain told it that it could rest now. His eyes drooped as he crashed physically and mentally, thumb hitting one letter on the screen before his phone slipped out of his hand and he passed out, completely drained, but finally finding a small sense of hope. 

Just a tiny bit of hope was enough. He could get there, as long as there was hope. 

* * *

“Okay… that was kind of weird, huh?” Iizuna said, watching Suna leave the bar and exit the room.

Komori sighed. He leaned against Iizuna’s shoulder, grabbing his hand in both of his. “Yeah, sorry. I think he’s in a bad mood,” he mused, shifting on the stool so he was facing Iizuna again. He let one of his feet fall forward, sliding between Iizuna’s legs near his knees. 

He was reeling from having been approached by Suna. How dare he? After tossing him aside, he’d come to the club, and expected Komori to go home with him? _He_ was going to act jealous now? That was fucking rich. 

“Anyways, you were saying Sakusa’s dating his teammate? How’s that–”

“Zuna,” Komori interrupted, looking up at him.

“What?” Iizuna said, blushing at the old pet name, looking back at Komori and swallowing.

“Do you want to go?”

The corner of Iizuna’s mouth twitched. “Go where?” he asked, dumbly.

Komori twitched his foot. “To my place?” he said confidently, emboldened by adrenaline from confronting Suna.

Iizuna exhaled. “Oh, well, yeah, that sounds fun,” he muttered, squeezing Komori’s hand.

“Then let’s go,” Komori said, pulling out his phone to call a taxi and then standing up, leading Iizuna out. They passed their teammates, who hollered at both of them as they saw them leaving hand in hand. 

Outside, they slid into the back of the taxi, ducking their heads and bumping thighs in the backseat. They were quiet, but in between them Iizuna’s thumb traced the back of Komori’s hand.

“So how far is it?” Iizuna asked, shifting in his seat as the driver took off.

Komori turned to look at him. “Ten minutes,” he said, licking his lips.

“Okay… that’s good,” Iizuna said awkwardly, eyes drawn to Komori’s tongue passing over his lips. He bit the inside of his lower lip.

Komori pulled his hand away abruptly, and his opposite hand shot forward, grabbing Iizuna’s thigh. And then he was leaning forward, quickly closing the space between their heads, which had already gravitated closer together in subconscious motion. 

Iizuna was pushed backwards into the car door as Komori kissed him fiercely. He adjusted, reaching a hand up to hold his face, their fingers lacing together on the seat. 

They had dated for a while, mostly during Komori’s third year of high school when Iizuna was a rookie with the Hornets. The distance caused too many problems, so they’d broken up, but remained friends. And for the past few years, whenever they were both back at an Itachiyama match, Komori usually ended up in Iizuna’s hotel room. It was so easy, so familiar, and they knew it’d be good, so it was almost impossible to resist. 

Komori didn’t think about it. Kissing Iizuna was easy, and it felt good. Iizuna didn’t hurt him. And Iizuna kissed him back like he’d been waiting for it ever since the last time. 

Honestly, Komori hadn’t thought about him for awhile. He’d been preoccupied. But he was looking for anything to take his mind off of that person. And it was working.

For the first time in months, he wasn’t thinking about him.

They crashed onto Komori’s bed, having left a trail of clothes down the hall in their wake. Komori was on top of him, panting and grinding down against Iizuna’s bulge, only separated by their underwear. He attacked Iizuna’s neck and chest. All he could do was hold Komori’s waist and swear. 

Komori’s phone buzzed on the nightstand. He glanced at it, annoyed, but ignored it. But then it buzzed again, and again, and then a fourth and fifth time. He groaned and grabbed it, sitting up, straddling Iizuna beneath him, while Iizuna looked up, breathless and confused. 

_SR: komori_

_SR: can we please talk_

_SR: i like you_

_SR: i dont want us to be over_

_SR: please just talk to me_

What the hell?

He locked his phone, barely processing what he’d just read, but noticing Iizuna squeeze his hips.

“Is everything good?” he asked.

Komori smiled and set his phone back down. “Yeah,” he said, leaning back down and kissing him again, rolling his hips into his erection. 

“Mm, fuck,” Iizuna muttered between kisses. “Can you suck my dick?”

“Yeah?” Komori taunted, moving his lips to his jaw, and then down his neck, pulling down the front of Iizuna’s underwear and releasing his cock. He backed up, crouching in between his legs, wrapping a hand around him and digging his other into his thigh. He stuck his tongue out and licked a stripe from the base to the tip, humming. “Mmm,” he moaned, pulling the bit of foreskin down and popping the tip into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. 

“Fuuuck, that feels good, Toya,” Iizuna groaned, reaching out to run his hand through Motoya’s hair.

Komori almost flinched. He started moving up and down on Iizuna’s dick automatically, not giving much thought to what he was doing, letting autopilot take over. His autopilot was pretty fucking good, to be fair. 

Even though that’s what Iizuna had been calling him for years, it felt wrong this time. Because now it wasn’t what Iizuna called him, it was what _he_ called him. Despite what he’d yelled in his face an hour ago, that name was only for _him_. 

And those messages… _i like you_ , he’d said. _i dont want us to be over._

 _Too bad! It’s over!_ Komori thought angrily, while absentmindedly deep-throating Iizuna. 

Toya, Toya, Toya. 

He started to feel sick.

He knew he was lying to himself.

He wasn’t over it, and those messages were brain worms, whispering to him, ‘What if he means it?’

He stopped.

He sat back, wiping his mouth, gasping for air. Iizuna looked frantic. 

“You good?” he sputtered, relaxing his grip in the sheets slightly.

Komori slid off the bed, and stood up, suddenly feeling overexposed. 

“Yeah, uh, I’m sorry, Iizuna, I’m not feeling well.”

“Oh,” Iizuna said. “Er… that’s fine, let’s stop, then.”

Komori nodded and slipped on his shirt. “Yeah…” he said, looking around the room awkwardly.

Iizuna sat up, tucking his still throbbing dick away in his underwear. “So do you want me to…”

Komori rubbed his eye, looking at the floor. “Um, yeah, I’m just really tired, I guess,” he stammered.

“Oh, yeah, okay,” Iizuna said, standing up and picking up his clothes that were within reach. He slipped his pants back on, wincing as he had to push down his boner to zip them up. “Hey, I’m sorry if I did something, I thought tonight was really fun, you know I always like seeing you,” he added, giving Komori a small smile. 

Komori bit his lip and stepped forward, wrapping his arms around him, tucking his chin over his shoulder. “No, it’s not you, Zuna, I promise. I think I might be getting sick, honestly, I probably shouldn’t have come out tonight, anyways,” he said, trying to laugh it off and telling a white lie to make Iizuna feel better. He would always have a soft spot for him, so he didn’t want him to think it was his fault. 

Iizuna patted his back comfortingly. “Really? Toya, you’re always pushing yourself too hard, you have to rest, sometimes, you know,” he said with genuine concern, removing himself from the hug and making his way towards the door. Komori walked with him. Iizuna picked up his shirt along the way.

Komori leaned against the wall, watching him slip on his shoes. Ringo meowed and came over from his spot on the couch to see what was happening. “Yeah, you’re right. I will. Message me when you get back?”

“Sure. Get some sleep, okay?” Iizuna replied, turning the handle and opening the door, smiling over his shoulder. 

“Thanks, Zuna,” Komori said quietly. He tilted forward and kissed him on the cheek. Iizuna leaned into the touch slightly, and then looked at him fondly one last time before stepping out into the hallway. Komori shut the door behind him. 

He picked up Ringo, cuddling him in his arms. Ringo wasn’t a fan of this, and batted at his chest, until Komori dropped him back on the floor. 

Komori took a deep breath. He got himself a glass of water, then plopped down on the couch and pulled out his phone. He tapped on his chin, debating what to say, but knowing what he wanted. 

_KM: Ok_

_KM: Come over tomorrow_

_KM: At 2_

He was nervous, and afraid to get hurt again. He’d given Suna so many chances, and at this point it was definitely a mistake to give him another, but fuck it. He wanted this too, as stupid as it was to hold onto any shred of hope. Because for some reason, he kept coming back to him. Every time Suna said the wrong thing, he still hoped that he would make it right. He’d stopped hoping, three days ago. But Suna’s messages brought it back.

He reread them again.

_i like you. i dont want us to be over._

He was weak. That much was true. Suna was a light in his own way, if one looked hard enough. It was easy to get lost stargazing and forget to look at the darkness itself. But on a clear night, in a spot that nobody else knows, one could see the core of the galaxy itself, a dark band across the sky, gilded by dust lanes and nebulas. 

Komori knew who Suna was. If it made him weak to go to him, then he was weak. 

* * *

Komori woke up too early. 

He showered, ate half a breakfast, and then he was waiting.

It was only 10. How was he supposed to last four more hours with this hanging over his head?

He got back in bed, watched TV, watched YouTube, scrolled Twitter, all at the same time. But even with three sources of information competing for his attention, he couldn’t stop thinking about what was to come. 

He had no idea what Suna would say. He hadn’t prepared anything himself. He couldn’t believe that Suna was really going to be at his apartment, talking to him about ‘us.’ 

Still, he didn’t want to get his hopes up. He’d often been in this position, where he was anxiously waiting for someone else to tell him what was going to happen to them. How did it always end up like this? At what point along the way did he lose control?

He was too trusting, too optimistic. He kept giving his heart away unconditionally, to people who didn’t ask for it. And then he’d be the broken one after they returned it, because ‘it’s not you, it’s me.’ 

That’s what they all said. But wasn’t he the common denominator? And he’d started to believe that it wasn’t them, it was him. 

It was almost 2. There was a knock at the door; no attempt to use the key.

Komori swallowed. He got out of bed, looking himself over in the mirror. He had dressed comfortably, in a long sleeve t-shirt and track pants. He felt that there was no need to try and doll himself up; Suna was going to say what he came to say regardless of what Komori looked like. 

He walked to the front door, and opened it without hesitation. 

Suna was standing on the other side, hands in the pouch of his black hoodie. He wore their white team-issued joggers, a yellow stripe running up the side of each leg. Number 7 embroidered on the thigh. 

“Hello,” Komori said, giving him a small nod. He pulled open the door for Suna to cross the threshold, and then turned, walking into the living room and taking a seat on the couch. He hugged his knees to his chest, toes curling into the couch cushion.

“Hey,” Suna replied, closing the door and watching Komori sit down while taking his shoes off. He stood there in the entryway for a moment, unsure where to go next.

“You can come sit here, if you want,” Komori said.

Suna smiled weakly. “Okay, thanks,” he replied, walking over to join Komori on the couch. He sat on the opposite end, slouching to rest his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together with his feet planted on the floor. “Thanks for letting me come over, I… really missed you,” he admitted.

Komori met his gaze, and then looked away. “That’s nice,” he said.

Suna picked at his fingers. He’d thought about everything he wanted to say, but now that he was here, with only a few feet of space between them, he felt like it wasn’t enough. “I don’t really know how to start this, but there’s just some stuff that I wanted to say to you, if that’s okay,” he began, staring at the side of Komori’s face, drinking in the sight. If Komori turned, he knew he would avert his eyes, but right now, he wanted to look as much as he could. He might not get this close again. 

“Okay,” Komori said quietly, squeezing his legs tight and bracing himself. He had his chin nestled on top of his knees, angled out from the corner of the couch, trying not to look at Suna, who he knew was staring at him earnestly. “I’m listening,” he said, genuinely, encouragingly. 

Suna took a deep breath. 

“I had sex with someone else. And I know you know that already. And I don’t know if it makes it any better, but I wanted to tell you, in person, and say that I’m sorry. It was stupid, and I know that even if we weren’t dating, it probably still hurt you.”

“Yeah,” Komori whispered, gulping down his resurfacing pain, “it did.”

Suna dropped his head into his hands, pressing his forehead into the butt of his palms, his fingers curled in halfway. “I just– I know you won’t believe me, but it was only the one time. Ever since we started this, I’ve only been with you. And I regret doing it. I wish I could take it back.”

“You can’t,” Komori said. 

“I know,” Suna said.

He paused for a moment, running his fingers through his hair and massaging his scalp, trying to think back to the words he had planned out in his notes app. This wasn’t going the way he’d imagined. 

“Komori, you’re… you’re such an amazing person. I wanted to tell you that too,” he started again, a subject he was much more comfortable talking about. “You’re just so kind, and you make friends with everyone, because everyone loves you right away, and I’ve always been… jealous of that. Jealous of you, I guess. You’re so good. Too good. You’re honestly the best person I know. And I have no idea why you bothered with me. Even when we we first met, and I pushed you away, you made me let you care about me. And I think that’s what made me… I don’t know, fall for you, I guess.”

He paused, chuckling briefly at his own words. He kept looking at the floor between his feet. “But that’s just it. You’re like, _way_ too good for me. And I don’t know if you felt anything for me before, or maybe… still do, but I don’t deserve it, cause all I’ve done is hurt you, and you just… shouldn’t be with a guy like me.” 

It was difficult for him to say, and his hopes were sinking as he talked himself into a pit. But he felt that what he was saying was true. 

Komori’s eyes began to water, and ducked his face into his knees to hide himself. 

It was the same fucking thing as always. It’s not you, it’s me. 

“So did you come here,” he managed to say, voice shaking, “to tell me that you fucked someone else, and then tell me that it’s over again?”

“No, I just, I’m really sorry that I hurt you, and I like you, but I don’t want you to get hurt again, because–”

“What about what _I_ want?” Komori interrupted him, lifting his head from his knees to look at Suna. Suna looked back at him, his expression worried. 

“What?” he said, holding his breath.

“How come it never matters what _I_ want? I feel like everyone’s always telling me what they think I want, and what’s best for me. Why don’t I get a say? It’s _my_ fucking life,” Komori said, both telling Suna and thinking out loud for himself.

“I’m sorry, that’s not what I–”

“Just let me talk now,” Komori stopped him again, uncrossing his arms from around his knees and bringing his hands in front of his chest, rubbing his knuckles to relieve tension. 

Suna relaxed slightly, not daring to say anything else, but watching Komori patiently.

Komori looked at Suna, sitting on the couch across from him. He’d begged for the chance to talk to him again. He’d come clean about everything. And blamed it all on himself, like everyone did in Komori’s past. Komori was fed up with being told what was good for him. 

“I don’t care what you did. It hurt, yeah. But I didn’t care. I still wanted you, even though I knew. It made me feel like I wasn’t enough for you, but I couldn’t say anything, because I wanted you to… I guess I wanted you to choose me on your own. I’m not done,” he said, as Suna opened his mouth to respond. He closed it, and Komori continued, with the courage to look him in the eyes. 

“Whatever you think you put me through… whatever you think you did to hurt me… none of it hurt more than you letting me go. I like you, Rintarou. You made me laugh, and you treated me like I was the center of the universe, or at least, that’s how it felt, to me. Then when you left me alone, I was so confused, because I thought that you… I thought that we…”

His voice shattered, all of those feelings of worthlessness and abandonment bubbling up in his throat, fast, until it overflowed and he began to cry, once again. He cursed himself for it, sniffling and hiding his face in his hands. Knowing that Suna was sitting there watching him made him sob harder.

Suna stood quickly and sat back down on the couch next to him, Komori’s feet poking his thigh. He wrapped his arms around his shoulders, torn by his sobs, his instincts taking over. He couldn’t just sit there while he cried. He’d run away before, and made the wrong choice, but this time he would stay and hold him.

“Don’t,” Komori said, unconvincingly, as he leaned into Suna, hiding his face against his sternum, letting Suna rest his chin on top of his head and rub his back and stroke his hair. 

“Toya,” Suna said softly, tingling at being able to touch him again. The scent of his shampoo under Suna’s nose was soothing and familiar, as was the sound of his breathing against his chest. “I’m so sorry.”

Komori felt anchored, even though Suna was the one who’d caused his pain. But he wasn’t keeping score. Because he still cared about Suna, and now he knew that Suna cared about him too, and that was enough. He wiped his eyes dry with his shirt sleeve. He’d made a small wet spot on the front of Suna’s hoodie.

He lifted his head. There was a centimeter of space between their noses. He stared into green eyes, and Suna stared into brown eyes. This time, they both found what they were searching for. 

Suna touched his face, fingers brushing behind his ear. He never wanted to look away from something so bright and beautiful, even if he went blind. 

Maybe there was room for one more stupid decision.

He pulled Komori’s face to his, and kissed his lips, still salty from tears. Komori made a startled noise, but let him do it. 

Suna moved his lips carefully, gently, his fingers sliding up the back of Komori’s neck. He trapped his bottom lip first, releasing it slowly, and then switched to his top lip, letting the tip of his tongue slide against the wet underside, tapping Komori’s teeth.

Komori braced his hands against Suna’s chest, and opened his mouth, letting Suna’s tongue meet his, twisting around each other for a moment before sliding back out as their lips closed together. They breathed through their noses softly, making tiny noises that went to their heads. 

Suna pulled Komori’s waist forward, laying him down on his back carefully so that his head rested on the arm of the couch. He followed, leaning over him, hands pressed into the cushions to hold himself up. 

Komori made a small, needy groan into his mouth. Suna felt blood rushing south. 

Then Komori pushed against his chest and turned his face slightly, breaking away from the kiss. 

“Wait, stop,” he said, breathlessly, staring up at Suna with glassy eyes. “What is… what are we doing? For real, this time,” he said, hesitating. 

Suna sat back, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. Komori shifted to sit up too, throwing his legs over Suna’s lap. Suna reached for his hands and pulled them to his chest, leaning back against the couch. He drew circles with his thumbs.

“What do you want?” he asked.

Komori looked away for a second nervously. There was nothing to be afraid of this time. If he said what he wanted, Suna would give it to him, not because he’d asked him to, but because he wanted to.

“I want to be with you. Not just friends,” Komori answered.

Suna smiled. “We were never just friends.” He squeezed Komori’s hands. “Let me be your boyfriend, then.”

“Okay,” Komori said, his heart soaring. He felt his mouth turning up into a smile, and then he laughed, leaning forward to kiss him again. 

Suna kissed him back briefly, before grabbing his shoulders and holding him away for a moment. “Okay, wait, now that you’re my boyfriend… I gotta ask, what did you do last night? It’s been killing me,” he said, lightheartedly. “I won’t be mad, I just wanna know. Kinda payback, like, if you fucked him, that’s honestly so fair.”

Komori raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips. “Yeah, about that… you’re not gonna be mad?” he said, covering his mouth to hide a laugh.

Suna looked up at the ceiling and exhaled dramatically. “Nah, but I can’t say I won’t be jealous.”

“I hooked up with him,” Komori told him, biting his nail.

Suna frowned.

“You said you wouldn’t be mad!” Komori complained as he saw his grumpy face.

“Yeah, well… wait, what does hook up mean? You kissed, or…”

“Yeah, we kissed,” Komori said, tilting his head and linking his hands behind Suna’s neck, finding his distress and confusion endearing.

“So you just kissed?”

Komori pretended to be thinking. “Well,” he said, looking up and to the right, “I also sucked his dick.”

“Man, what the fuck,” Suna groaned, throwing his head back and tightening his grip around Komori’s waist. 

Komori burst out laughing. “I’m sorry! He didn’t even cum, though! I stopped halfway because I was thinking about your stupid ass!”

Suna ignored him and leaned forward, kissing his cheek, his jaw, his neck, and huffing air out of his nose to tickle him. He moved, placing one knee between Komori’s thighs and his hands on the back of the couch, continuing to dot kisses across the front and sides of his neck. “Whatever, slut,” he whispered. 

Komori pouted but bit his lip as Suna licked his neck. “Hey, I’m not– wait, what are you doing?” he sputtered out as Suna slithered down onto the floor in front of him. His hands plucked at his waistband insistently.

“What do you mean ‘what am I doing?’ I’m trying to give you head,” Suna said, smirking and tugging at the front of his pants again. He pressed his cheek on top of Komori’s crotch and looked up at him. He looked cute when he was frazzled.

“Suna, you don’t have to–”

“Shh,” he whispered, smiling when Komori finally complied, lifting his hips slightly so Suna could pull his pants and underwear down enough to access his cock. Komori gulped. His shirt still covered it, but he was half hard thinking about Suna’s mouth on him. 

“Do me a favor and hold that up for me,” Suna said, lifting the edge of Komori’s shirt. Komori held it tentatively with one hand, exhaling when Suna’s hand enclosed around his cock and started moving. 

“Shit, Suna; god,” he groaned, his head falling back against the couch. His free hand dug into the cushion.

Suna stopped talking. He slid his hand up and down, using Komori’s foreskin to create glide as he added gentle pressure until his cock was hard and the head was exposed, a drop of precum forming at the slit.

He leaned forward and licked it. Komori shuddered. Suna paused to pull his pants off completely, frustrated that they were getting in the way. 

His fingers pressed into Komori’s inner thigh, lightly pulling it out to force his legs apart. 

He didn’t give Komori a moment to breathe before he licked his lips and took him in all the way, dropping his head and feeling his dick just touch the back of his throat. 

“ _Fuck,_ ” Komori groaned, almost dropping his shirt.

That was encouragement enough for Suna. He started slowly lifting his head up and down, removing his hand from the base of his cock and instead massaging his balls, which were tightening as he worked. He was drooling all over it, the entire lower half of his face getting wet, but it was worth it for the way it made Toya squirm and moan. He closed his eyes, stuffing it down his throat again, pausing to swirl his tongue around the length inside his mouth. 

He felt Komori grab his hair and yank him up, before lightly guiding him to start moving again.

“C’mon,” Komori gasped, his eyes still shut and head thrown back.

Suna obeyed for another few seconds, humming his response. Then he stopped for a moment, popping off and looking up at Komori. “Hey, can we–”

“Not now,” Komori growled. 

He lifted the edge of his shirt to his mouth, taking it between his teeth, and then grabbed Suna’s head with both hands, forcing it back down. 

Suna’s eyes bulged and he opened his mouth just in time to take Komori’s cock back in. 

Komori started thrusting up into his mouth and pulling his head down to his lap at the same time, making his cock hit the back of Suna’s throat on every pump. Suna’s eyes were watering and he dug his hands into Komori’s thighs again for purchase. 

Komori’s moan ripped through his chest as he fucked Suna’s mouth, clenching his jaw to hold his shirt in place. _Just a little bit more_ , he thought, wincing as he bobbed Suna’s head a few more times. He looked down at his big, bad, boyfriend kneeling in front of him and gagging on his cock. 

Suna made a confused gurgling noise as cum filled the back of his throat, almost going down the wrong pipe, before he swallowed reflexively. There was so much of that it seeped past Suna’s lips, dribbling out of the corner of his mouth. Komori’s hands relaxed and Suna ripped himself away, sitting up and swallowing again, gasping for air and staring at Komori.

“Damn,” Suna said, swiping his tongue across the front of his teeth and wincing at the taste of the cum he’d licked out. 

Komori let his shirt drop, catching his breath. He noticed the wet spot from Suna’s dribbling on the couch. “You’re cleaning that up,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Suna replied, rolling his eyes. He reached into his own pants to adjust himself, his cock having been rock hard the entire time. 

Komori watched him. “Come here,” he said, scooting to the edge of the couch and grabbing Suna’s face. 

Suna turned up to meet him, his hands holding onto Komori’s bare knees. Komori lapped up the cum from the side of his mouth, and then kissed him.

Suna’s lips were soft and wet from the blow job, and his face was still sloppy, but Komori didn’t seem to mind. He slipped his tongue inside, searching every last corner for his own cum. He threw his arms around Suna’s neck. 

“Are you gonna fuck me now?” he asked innocently, breaking away from the kiss.

Suna’s cock twitched. “Yeah,” he said decidedly, standing up. 

Komori tightened his hold around his neck, letting Suna pick him up, and wrapping his legs around him. He could feel Suna’s cock trapped under his waistband. He’d just finished, but the feeling made his stomach flutter again.

Suna kicked the door in, startling Ringo who was hiding under the bed and sending him sprinting out of the room. He tossed Komori onto the bed and then turned around to pull his shirt and hoodie over his head, closing the door after. Komori took his shirt off too, licking his lips at the way Suna’s back muscles flexed as he finished undressing. 

“Start fingering yourself,” Suna said.

He was standing at the end of the bed, holding his cock in one hand and watching Komori. 

Komori blinked. 

“Okay,” he said, going along with it, and taking out the lube from his dresser. He poured some out and lifted his legs to access his hole better, massaging it on the rim before sticking one finger in. He stared at Suna, who was still watching him, but now slowly running his hand along his own dick.

“Good,” Suna said, lightly praising Komori for listening to him. He spread his precum across his cock head with his thumb, touching himself lazily. He was beyond ready to fuck Komori again, but he wanted him to work for it a little bit after the facefucking stunt he’d pulled in the living room. 

“Add another finger. Hurry,” he told Komori, letting go of his cock and kneeling on the bed.

Komori was getting turned on again by being told what to do to himself. He listened, sliding in another finger and biting his lip, looking at Suna between his legs with bedroom eyes. He slid his fingers in and out slowly, scissoring them inside himself, letting Suna see everything. 

Suna moved forward and grabbed Komori’s hips.

He picked him up around his middle, making Komori yelp in surprise, and turned him over, propping him up on all fours. “You’re going too slow,” he muttered, grabbing the lube and pouring it onto his own fingers. “Get the condoms out,” he ordered.

Komori reached out for the drawer.

Suna plunged three fingers into him and started fucking him open fast. Komori let out an accidental moan and his arms faltered. He refocused and fumbled in the drawer, panting as Suna worked him from behind while he grabbed a few condoms from the box and tossed them on the bed underneath him. 

“Good boy,” Suna said.

That went straight to Komori’s cock. He was almost fully hard again.

Suna picked up a condom and tore it open. Komori looked back over his shoulder to see what he was doing, but Suna grabbed the back of his neck and forced his head forward.

“You want this?” Suna taunted, suddenly sliding his length against Komori’s hole, grabbing his ass on either side. 

“Mmm,” Komori moaned, dropping his head down and pushing back desperately. “I want it, please,” he said, staring at his own weeping cock in between his legs.

“You want what? Speak up,” Suna said. He was barely holding back from shoving inside of Komori, but if there was one thing he liked to hear more than Komori’s praise, it was his begging. 

“Your cock,” Komori whined desperately. He kept wiggling his hips back, trying to get the tip to catch, but Suna wouldn’t let him. He knew he was going to have to ask nicely. “Please, Suna, I want your cock, I want it in me so bad, I _need_ it,” he pleaded. “I– I missed you inside me,” he added, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Did you, baby?” Suna said, voice dripping with poison. He lined himself up. “That’s so cute,” he said, thrusting inside. 

Komori cried out, throwing his head back again as Suna started fucking him. 

“Feels so… good… thank you…” Komori whined, fisting the sheets as Suna pounded him from behind. His body jerked forward with every stroke, threatening to send him flying.

Suna’s thumb dug into his lower back. He smacked his ass and grunted, making Komori squeak. “You take my cock so nice, don’t you? You’re such a good boy, Toya, but I think you like being punished,” Suna sneered, delighting in the way Komori clenched around him after being spanked. 

“Punish me,” Komori replied, gasping out for air. He felt like his lungs didn’t have time to fill up between relentless thrusts.

Suna spanked him again and swore. “Fuck, you get so fucking tight when I slap your ass, you like that?” He couldn’t take this much longer. 

“Mm, fuck, yes, please,” Komori moaned, bumping his ass back, trying to fuck himself harder on Suna’s cock.

Suna grabbed the back of his neck again. His fingers curled around to the front, pressing into the sides, restricting his airflow. Komori’s eyes rolled back as he tried to breathe harder, but couldn’t. 

“If you wanna cum, you’d better start touching yourself,” Suna warned him, smacking his ass again to get him to tighten up. “Fuck,” he cursed, watching his cock slide in and out. “Ah fuck, you’re so fucking good, Toya, and you’re fucking mine,” he started saying, his words flowing on their own as he built up to his orgasm and started to lose control. He gave Komori a few seconds to breathe.

Komori instantly started stroking himself, feeling like he could cum at any moment. And then Suna said that he was his, and something snapped in him, and he was cumming again, shooting out onto the sheets, squeezing Suna’s cock, and shouting his name. 

“ _Toya_ ,” Suna grunted, hunched over Komori, convulsing, hands gripping his waist, fingers almost touching across his abs in the front, emptying into the condom.

Suna fell onto his side, taking down Komori with him and pulling him into his chest. He winced and rolled the condom off, briefly twisting his arm back to toss it in the bin, and then returning, crossing his arm over Komori’s stomach, and curling the other under him and across his chest. He didn’t care that they were sweaty, or that there was cum on the sheets next to them, he just wanted to be there, with no space between them.

Komori caught his breath. He felt Suna’s heart beating against his back, and the rise and fall of his chest. He moved one of Suna’s hands and placed it over his own heart, holding it there. Suna tapped his fingers on his skin in appreciation, and kissed his hair over and over again.

“What time is it?” Suna asked, after their breathing had slowed and they were peacefully spooning, basking in each other’s warmth.

“It’s 4:45,” Komori said, glancing at the alarm clock off to the side of bed that he was facing.

“Wait, 4:45? Damn, I guess I didn’t realize it was that early,” Suna said from behind, breathing out against Komori’s neck.

“Yeah… I’m hungry,” Komori said. “Can we order something?”

“Oh yeah, I’m hungry too.”

“You pay?”

“What? Why would I pay?”

“Because you’re my boyfriend! The boyfriend has to pay!”

“You’re also my boyfriend! You pay!”

“No, you!”

Suna paid for their food. They ate dinner together while the sheets were in the laundry, and then showered, washing each other's hair and kissing under the water. 

They watched reality TV on the couch, which Komori loved, and Suna found confusing, but was secretly enthralled by. They had a few episodes to catch up on that they’d missed out on watching together over the last two weeks. 

They made the bed together with fresh linens, laughing when they trapped Ringo under the fitted sheet, watching his little head whip around under the cotton. Once they set him free and made the rest of the bed, they settled in next to each other. Clean sheets, clean bodies, clean slate. 

Suna listened to Komori tell him about a conspiracy theory that some American pop singer had been replaced by a double. He insisted that they watch a YouTube video about it, and started typing in the channel name on the TV.

“By the way,” Komori said, turning to look at Suna, face glowing with white light from the screen. “Are you going to stay?”

Suna rubbed his arm, and shifted to let him settle in against his chest. He pulled the covers over Komori’s legs and placed a kiss on his temple.

“Yeah.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I put a lot of time and energy into writing this story, and I'm really happy with how it turned out. It means so much to me that you took this much time to read about this pair. I have grown very fond of them as a couple and as individuals throughout the writing process.
> 
> Here's [art](https://twitter.com/fearfularina/status/1349243318430011392?s=20) that my pal Arina on Twitter made of Komori in Suna's hoodie from the opening scene! It's so adorable :)
> 
> If you want to read my short fic about Komori and Iizuna losing their virginity (prequel pwp), you can find it [here](https://t.co/AAScGuCUcq?amp=1).  
> If you want to read my short fic about Suna, Komori, Sakusa, and Atsumu having some sexy fun at the Olympics (sequel pwp), you can find it [here](https://t.co/vh66VlwvWj?amp=1).  
> I consider these to be in the same timeline as Parastellar. 
> 
> If you liked it and feel inclined to share, [here](https://twitter.com/kaashmoneybb/status/1348466581710499842?s=20) is my promo tweet. 
> 
> And finally, you can talk to me on Twitter [here](https://twitter.com/kaashmoneybb)!
> 
> Thank you again!


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